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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132948">we were liars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellfire/pseuds/spellfire'>spellfire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ALternate Universe - Businessmen, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Arranged Marriage, Chairman Soobin, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rivals to Lovers, Secret Relationship, a business trip gone wrong. or did it, bachelor soobin, beomkai bffs, covid is exploited for plot element here, everyone's four years older, excessive mention of wine, finally my business degree has a use, hidden affair yeonbin and taegyu, hueningkai is best friends with everyone because everyone is in love with him, idol yeonjun, lots of kissing you have been warned, slowburn, soogyu bickering and trying to outdo each other even in the smallest things: the saga, soogyu business rivals, soogyu endgame but at what cost, soogyukai as heirs in a wine industry, taehyun is royalty, this wine businessmen au is an excuse to exploit my drinking problems for creativity, vice president beomgyu, wine is also a predominant character of this story, yes taehyun is a prince</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:41:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132948</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellfire/pseuds/spellfire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering a little secret, Beomgyu thinks he has everything to gain and nothing to lose when he approaches the heir of his family’s rival company, Choi Soobin, offering a deal he can’t refuse: a marriage proposal for mutual benefits, both corporate and personal.  </p><p>They’re industry professionals and emotionally unavailable. Just what could go wrong?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Beomgyu/Choi Soobin, Choi Beomgyu/Kang Taehyun, Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>294</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the ties were black, the lies were white</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is supposed to be posted in one go for beomgyu's birthday but alas i am lazy and incompetent so i will break it down into chapters and will update every monday! </p><p>a few things worthy of note before you start:<br/>1. this fic heavily centers around alcohol since it's set in a wine industry, so be aware of the excessive mention of all sorts of wine.<br/>2. everyone in txt is aged up by four years, putting them all in their mid-20's. therefore, more mature shifts in circumstances and environments may apply. = classy, filthy rich businessmen extravaganza.<br/>3. excessive scenes of them making out and bearing hickeys here and there, but nothing inherently or explicitly sexual. </p><p>happy reading and please leave feedbacks in the comments! :&gt;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a long twenty four hours. </p><p>Wedding bells have gone off in the distance, sounding much more muted and further off than Beomgyu remembers. If he doesn’t know better, he would’ve assumed that it’s another couple getting married down the next church. </p><p>Chatters fill the venue as do brisk handshakes and empty-worded congratulations. If—again—Beomgyu doesn’t know better, he’d also think he’ll be one of those bystanders in dark suits, blending in among the crowd just to taste the wine they serve at reception. </p><p>Generally, that’s all a wedding’s good for, right? It’s the wine that makes it worth attending, so he’d assume they would bring the quality. Rich people have all the money to splurge on great wine when it comes to their big day; it’s how they flex. It’s a capitalist’s love language, and we live in a capitalistic society. There’s nothing more romantic than good wine, especially when it’s free. </p><p>On any other day, he and Hueningkai would be seen huddling in a secluded corner, gossiping like teenagers. Probably about everything and nothing at the same time, because that’s just how it goes between the two of them. Hueningkai would probably elbow him over a random chairman’s daughter they’ve met once who looks starved of affection; or this executive’s wife who acts a little too guarded, like she has something to hide. </p><p>And Beomgyu would laugh, agreeing to his best friend’s antics. It’s just how things go between them. Darting eyes hidden behind wine glasses the size of their faces. They’d keep to themselves and take sips after whispers, not wanting to meddle in with the boring formalities. Just the two of them, business titles and exemplary attitudes aside, doing silly best friend things. That’s how it always goes whenever they attend weddings. </p><p>Of course that isn’t how it’s going now, since the wedding he’s currently at is more out of absolute obligation than begrudging will. He’d love to run off somewhere and sling an arm around the taller male’s shoulder, dragging him for another round of impromptu wine tasting session. But to his dismay, he can’t. </p><p>And you’d definitely ask—why not? What’s stopping him? Him, Choi Beomgyu, 24, vice president of Choi Industries and heir to Korea’s number one corporation?</p><p>Because this wedding isn’t one he’s told to attend out of duty. He isn’t here simply because they’re serving his company’s wine so he has to be present for quality control. He’d wish that this was the case. But no, it’s much worse.</p><p>The wedding is <em> his</em>, and he’s the one he would normally gossip about. </p><p>He wonders what is being said about him. Tries to put himself in a random bystander’s perspective, chit chatting away with the next person and throwing him auspicious glances. The nervous groom who looks a little too lonely on his big day? The young and sprightly vice executive director of Choi Industries, the biggest wine importer company, settling down at the mere age of 24? </p><p> </p><p>He’s already suffering the mental deterioration that comes with marriage and the ring isn’t even on his finger yet. What’s that expression about how gifted child prodigies burn out quicker and age twice as fast as the average person?</p><p>If this was any other day, he would be the one mocking himself the most right now, madly giggling and nudging Hueningkai who would also be laughing along. <em>Ah, good times.</em> The golden days. He wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to do that ever again.  </p><p>That is, if he knows better; if this is just any other day. (Spoiler: it isn’t. And he really doesn’t know better, no matter how much he’d try to stress the opposite.) </p><p>Because on any other day, the one walking down the aisle wouldn’t be the son of his family’s rival company—South Korea’s biggest winemaking corporation, Choi Group—hand in hand with the chairman who’s sporting a smile too big it looks like a grimace. Beomgyu wonders if he looked like that all day while greeting the guests. At least he’s significantly better looking than a man in his mid-40’s, or so he hopes? </p><p>On any other day, the nation’s most wanted bachelor wouldn’t be the one descending the red carpet that seems to stretch indefinitely at the ends of their feet. It almost feels like time’s being slowed; like they’re stuck in an action movie’s dramatic fight scene.</p><p>Beomgyu feels his nerves rattle in impatience, biting the inside of his cheeks. (Why is everyone moving so damn slowly? Are their feet that heavy that they can’t seem to walk a little faster?) </p><p>And on any other day, Beomgyu wouldn’t be where the carpet leads to, standing at the altar with hands tucked behind his back—that are currently trembling for a whole other reason. Spectators are probably assuming that it’s out of joy, so he lets himself hold onto that fact to anchor him. </p><p>When long legs stop in front of him on their now shared altar, Beomgyu gets a split-second curiosity if there’s counted statistics of grooms bailing their weddings. (Perhaps if it’s not too high, he might as well contribute to that number and make an MTV-worthy exit while he’s at it.)</p><p>But he looks up into a pair of piercing, emotionless eyes, and he’s then reminded of the reason why they’re here in the first place.</p><p>Right, it was his idea. </p><p>So Beomgyu looks away, casting his gaze to the ground. He’s the one who dragged him into this, and he’s just lucky that the male agrees on his first attempt at persuasion. (Do people usually get married this easily? It’s nowhere near as climactic as pop culture makes it out to be.) </p><p>“Do you, Choi Soobin, take Choi Beomgyu as your lawfully wedded husband? To celebrate his successes and support his struggles? To love him, respect him, and tenderly care for him, through all days of your life?” </p><p>As expected, his groom doesn’t even hesitate. His tone sounds like he’s responding to a roll call in a high school class. “I do.” (A high school class is probably more interesting than what’s going on right now.)</p><p>“Do you, Choi Beomgyu, take Choi Soobin as your lawfully wedded—”</p><p>Beomgyu’s eyelashes flutter rapidly, not even waiting for the priest to finish. “I do.” He says with resounding finality, gaze flickering up to level the one staring down at him. </p><p>The groom in question doesn’t do so much as flash him a timid smile. Beomgyu’s face blands out like salt diluted by water. (Great, he just married someone with a prominently diagnosed bitch face syndrome.) </p><p>“Then, from this moment onward, I shall pronounce you husbands.” </p><p>And that is it, the moment when the world suddenly turns pink. When blaring ceremonious music plays in the background as everyone’s problems become magically solved, and nothing in his life’s gonna go wrong ever again.</p><p>And he should hold hands with his groom and skip down his altar, doing that wedding march, bouquet in hand and all—because love is always the answer, right? </p><p>(Wrong.) </p><p>The entire venue erupts into a cheer. Guests are giving them standing ovations left and right, and Beomgyu finds it vexing. How infuriating. </p><p>He muses the foulness of if all, obviously bitter. Like two people tying the knots of their fate for the rest of their lives is something worth applauding. He’s the one being congratulated, but right now as he looks up at the person who he just married, all he feels is dread. </p><p>(Isn’t such tradition a little too cruel? Who started this, and who thought it was okay? And why do we still listen to them?)</p><p>Because the way Beomgyu sees it, a marriage is no better than a funeral. The only difference is that they wear white. </p><p>They should be weeping for his loss of freedom, dreading the shackles of restriction that’s going to loom over his head from now on. (And by their agreed terms, that entails every waking moment of tomorrow plus the day after.)</p><p>Nothing about giving up your life to be bound to someone else is worth celebrating. Every laughter vibrating off the walls of this church feels like a slap of mockery in his face. Beomgyu all but smiles humourlessly. </p><p>He tries to remind himself of what it’s all for, and how it’s all going to be worth it in the end. (Because it will since he’s smart and he is Choi Beomgyu, thus he’s never wrong.) </p><p>And they wouldn’t be withstanding the ceremony right now if it isn’t for the four smiling faces seated at the front row—the people whom they only cared to go through a million wedding shenanigans and a half for. </p><p>Their parents. </p><p>“You may now kiss the groom.” </p><p>And the hesitancy in both their body languages, before they lean in with more obligation than will, should have been a sign that this was a bad idea. They should have taken that sign. </p><p>(They didn’t.) </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Here’s the plan.” </p><p>Beomgyus announces, a little too loudly, accompanied with a tad melodramatic double-slam of his palms. The table lets out a loud <em> thud, </em>their drinks on top lightly quivering from the impact. </p><p>“Hyung, it’s okay to talk normally—just—sit down,” says Hueningkai, seated adjacent to him around the coffee table in a hushed voice. “Calm down.” </p><p>And then Beomgyu is forced to realise the awkward position he’s in. Solely stood up in the middle of a crowded café, slamming the table and looming over it like a Marvel movie protagonist with a master plan. </p><p>All the bewildered gazes are turned to him, judging without concealment, and the unimpressed one he’s getting right now from in front of him he’s not particularly fond of. </p><p>He lets out a small <em> ‘okay’ </em>before clearing his throat and sitting back down. Soobin still shows no reaction to him, and somehow it irks him how this guy can be so indifferent. He knows the nature of the plan he’s about to propose, yet he looks so bored out of his mind like Beomgyu’s a Wall Street stockbroker trying to get him to invest. How annoying. </p><p>“Alright, so. Plan.” He starts, his index rimming the top of his coffee cup as an attempt to hide his embarrassment. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice by the way. I rarely ever see you outside of work circumstances.”</p><p>Soobin does nothing except give him a slow blink. For someone who’s constantly praised to be a likeable social butterfly, the way this dude regards him somehow contradicts his ego. Why does he look at him with eyes that are so perceptive and derogatory? What’s his issue? </p><p>And he doesn’t like anyone that hurts his ego, because Beomgyu suddenly feels like an outcast not worthy of conversing with the guy. He hates losing, so by default he hates him. </p><p>They’ve met for a total of five minutes, and Beomgyu already despises everything about Choi Soobin. </p><p>“It’s no problem,” The older finally speaks, leaning back slightly and tucking his hands into the pocket of his trench coat. This guy thinks he’s so cool. “I can’t refuse an offer from Hueningkai anyway.” His eyes finally flicker from Beomgyu’s to the male in question, who immediately beams at the mention. A slight lace of fondness fills his gaze, and Beomgyu doesn’t know why he feels like Hueningkai is the one about to marry this dude instead of him. Is his plan going to backfire and explode in his face before he even gets the chance to execute it? </p><p>“There’s no need to thank me! Whatever turns out to be best for my two best friends,” The youngest responds, words coloured with glee, and it cruelly reminds Beomgyu that this is all possible because of him. </p><p>It’s true. He and Choi Soobin never had a reason to speak to each other unless it’s done by their parents’ side at some social gathering; nods curt and wine glasses in hand.</p><p>Hueningkai is the strongest link between the two of them, the glue because he’s Beomgyu’s best friend and somehow also Soobin’s. Funny how the son of a soju-manufacturing company is the best of friends to two of the biggest wine giants in the alcohol industry, when they should be competitors. This sudden ‘plan’ Beomgyu conceived in ass hours of the night, fresh from nightmares, is only materialising now because he’s his mentioned one of two best friends. </p><p>And it just so happens that the other half of the number is exactly the person he needs—the person currently sitting in front of him, face too gorgeous for someone so awfully arrogant. Hueningkai’s also probably the only reason Soobin is still sitting in that very chair. He’s not here because Beomgyu solely asked him to, that’s for sure. </p><p>Sighing, Beomgyu taps the rim of his coffee cup a little too loudly. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got the gist of what I’m about to propose.”</p><p>The response he gets is far too dry for something that is essentially about to change their lives. “As long as both companies benefit from it and my parents are happy, I have no objections.” His voice is annoyingly calm when he reaches out to take a sip from his hot cappuccino. Even with that, he does it in style—pinky raised and elbow perfectly stuck out. “And as long as it doesn’t affect my personal relationship.” </p><p>He snorts. Like Beomgyu will ever have anything to do with that. They can barely call themselves friends, and with the impression he’s garnering of him now, he thinks that fact is gonna last for a while. “That won’t be compromised,” He says, crossing his legs and putting his intertwined hands on top of his knees. His business negotiation pose he’s habitually slipped into. “I’m also emotionally unavailable. Treat this like a business proposal.”</p><p>Because that’s what it is. A plan that both parties benefit from. Terms and conditions clearly stated, agreed upon and promptly negotiated. An intangible investment bound to earn them the benefits they both signed up for. </p><p>A perfect scheme in theory with no room to fail, as long as both he and Soobin do what’s required of them. Fulfill their part of the deed. Nothing more, nothing less. Failproof. </p><p>The taller male doesn’t respond, just stares at him expectantly like he’s waiting for Beomgyu to elaborate, so he does. He slips into his client-friendly voice, plastering on his client-friendly smile.</p><p>If they’re going to treat this like it’s a part of his job, then he’s going to do what he does best. </p><p>“It’s pretty straightforward, you see. Since we’re two of the biggest names in the liquor industry, it only makes sense to propose an arranged marriage for networking purposes. Seeing how well they get along, I doubt any of our parents would object. At one point you and I are going to be forced into one anyway, so why not do it now when the choice is still up to us?”</p><p>“Now you make me feel unwanted,” Speaks Hueningkai, leaning back into his chair with an exaggerated clutch of his chest. Beomgyu only cracks out a small giggle, simply nudging him. “You don’t deserve the misfortune of being my spouse.”</p><p>He doesn’t understand why the presence of Choi Soobin makes him petty. He means that in a derogatory jab before he side eyes him, and the only response he gets is a tightened jaw and a raise of a brow. Good enough. </p><p>“Additionally, if we can form a partnership between your corporation and mine, our stock value will skyrocket. It’s also easier to merge suppliers and eliminate competition. Merged inventory means more saving on marginal costs of goods sold. Forecasting will also be convenient on both our parts, meaning an overall easier domination of the market. Tedious paperworks are done by obviously not us. So therefore there’s absolutely no downside to it, business-wise.” </p><p>As he pauses to gauge Soobin’s reaction, the male only gives him a singular nod. This gives him the approval he needs to continue, “Anything else-wise, I also don’t think there’s much at risk. As long as we pretend to be lovesick whenever my parents or yours are around, which means only at networking parties or family visits, that’ll be enough. Clean and no strings attached, since neither of us are single anyway. Hueningkai told me about your relationship. You’re dating this idol, no?”</p><p>“His name is Yeonjun,” He finally responds, “And his agency wants to keep it a secret. Idol reputations, etcetera.” </p><p>“Yeah, and your whole number one hottest bachelor image is also driving sales to your name.” Hueningkai chimes, and both he and Beomgyu let out a synchronous chuckle. </p><p>Soobin only snorts. Whether amused or annoyed, he can’t tell. And he doesn’t care enough to ponder further.  “You’re becoming sort of famous now with all these magazine shoots. I’m sure women are flocking your aisles at the liquor store.”</p><p>Soobin doesn’t respond to Kai’s little comment, and Beomgyu thinks that’s the end of it. He’s just ready to start discussing the wedding planning when Soobin suddenly asks, voice full of mirth, “What about you? Aren’t you also dating someone? I heard he’s no small force to be reckoned with.”</p><p>Talking about Kang Taehyun is normally his favourite pastime activity. At the mention of his significant other, Beomgyu usually lights up like a glowstick, ready to elaborate and shower his boyfriend with praise to anyone that’s unfortunate enough to listen. Yet somehow, with a Choi Soobin sticking his nose into his personal business, Beomgyu doesn’t find himself to be so willing. </p><p>So he curtly responds, “His name is Taehyun.”</p><p>Soobin’s next reaction is the most emotions he’s ever shown on his face ever since Beomgyu entered the cafe, and that is surprise. Surprise fills every crevice of his visage. It’s almost kind of funny to look at, him with brows raised and forehead creased, lips forming a small yet perfect ‘o’. “Taehyun? Kang Taehyun?” </p><p>He replies, resigned. He has a feeling Soobin’s already way too knowledgeable about his business for his own good. He’ll give him three seconds to figure it out. “That’s the one.”</p><p>And three seconds barely pass when Soobin speaks again, tone slightly raised, “His Royal Highness the fourth prince of South Korea, Kang Taehyun?”</p><p>There it is. Cat’s finally out of the bag. Bingo. Jackpot. Bull’s eye. “Dead on. Amazing guessing skills.”</p><p>And that’s when he hears it. A small laugh, deep and airy, as Soobin leans back into his chair and sighs as if in disbelief. Both he and Hueningkai perk up at the sound.</p><p>There’s no reason for them to find a human being laughing odd. It’s very natural to laugh, right? It’s healthy, if anything. </p><p>But this is Soobin in front of them—the marketed cold, stoic ice prince and dubbed the nation’s most wanted bachelor. He barely smiles, let alone laugh, so do excuse them for the overreaction. </p><p>“Now I see why you wanted to propose this idea.” He says, slightly cocking his head to the side, eyes back to rivalling Beomgyu’s. “It’s the perfect cover-up.”</p><p>“Thank you for understanding,” He says, nothing empathetic about his words. “I’m sure it’s beneficial for you and Yeonjun too, seeing that we both have to hide our affairs.”</p><p>Soobin just nods in agreement, having nothing to say to refute. He’s back to business mode. “I think I get it. What’s the catch?”</p><p>And that’s Beomgyu’s turn to morph into dead seriousness, slightly leaning in from his seat. “Only one. Our parents mustn’t absolutely find out.”</p><p>The older male’s lips twist into a small frown, gaze still remaining indifferent. So Beomgyu prompts, “Questions?”</p><p>“Nada.” He swiftly answers, and a satisfied smile graces Beomgyu’s lips. And the deal is sealed. It was that easy. </p><p>He knows it’s unnecessary and surely a bit off given the circumstance, but he is someone with admirable work ethics—it’s how he’s earned the respect of being a vice president at such a young age after all. </p><p>So his brain tells him to treat this like a successful business negotiation, and his body performs as such. Soobin must also be on the same wavelength because as soon as he stands up, so does he. His hand extends out, immediately met with the older’s larger one in a firm handshake. </p><p>“Pleasure doing business with you.” He says, tone laced with contentment. Being in the top one percent of the nation, arranged marriages are not uncommon within their likes. So really, there should be nothing odd for them to treat this like a networking deal. </p><p>Because it is. A marriage without feelings is just a paper contract, and what’s the difference between that and a business investment? He might as well be a stockbroker from Wall Street celebrating a successful purchase right now. </p><p>At least that’s what he’s convinced of as Soobin shakes his hand with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Beomgyu immediately notices the identical dimples punctuating his balled up cheeks. “Likewise.”</p><p>Just like that, Korea’s number one bachelor is going to be his husband. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Babe, I’m gonna be late for the meeting,” Beomgyu manages between breathless chuckles, head turned back and toes painfully curled. One more minute of this and he’s not going to be able to feel them for the rest of the day. “You have to let me go—stop! It tickles!”</p><p>The male in question just lets out an amused chuckle, nose still buried deep into the crook of Beomgyu’s neck, hands holding him down and steady by the hips. People who work out would seize any available opportunity to exert their strength as a subtle flex. Beomgyu hates it. Maybe he should work out as well for this very purpose. </p><p>The restrained male hopelessly squirms, laughter so boisterous his breaths are barely meeting their ends. Obviously his requests are falling on deaf ears, so out of instinct his eyes glance to the antique clock on the wall; three more minutes until he has to leave. This won’t do. He’s willing to forgive himself for anything except for tardiness. </p><p>He prompts again, voice growing a tad solemn, “Your highness,” he starts, fingers carding through the streaks of blond mess tucked underneath his chin. “This commoner begs your pardon.” </p><p>The effect was immediate; Taehyun pulls back with a look of disdain that doesn’t run past surface level before he lets out a small grunt. “Why do you have to go anyway? Isn’t your father the one to attend these types of meetings?” The younger male raises, tone crestfallen. Alas, he slowly gets up, the grip on Beomgyu’s waist retreating. He feels like his hip bones are generously returned back to his body, grateful for the lack of damage. </p><p>The look on his boyfriend’s face is so pitiful that Beomgyu almost contemplates calling his assistance for a reschedule. They’ve been through this too many times to count, and with each failed attempt Taehyun only gets better at the art of persuasion. He thinks he’d make an even better spokesperson for his firm than himself. </p><p>But Beomgyu pushes the thought aside with an evasive smile and a kiss to Taehyun’s cheek, sitting up from his bed. Sure, his little royalty boyfriend knows how to tug at his heartstrings, but he knows better than to fall for it. Duty calls. </p><p>“Something about how I’m almost 25 and I should get used to handling the ropes on my own.” He climbs past Taehyun and off the mattress, soothing out the wrinkles on his blazer and adjusting his tie. One of the only perks of making out with your boyfriend minutes before you head off to meet an international trade partner; he knows exactly how to center his tie without the help of a mirror. “I’ll make it up to you later, promise.” </p><p>Taehyun does one of his huffs, lips hardening into a thin line as he stands up too. A hand naturally wraps around Beomgyu’s waist, forehead pressed against his. This is his last resort of persuasion, his quiet attempt at saying ‘<em> do you really have to go?’  </em></p><p>And Beomgyu would lay a palm flat against his chest, brush their noses together, and pull apart after pressing him a small peck. That’s his way of saying <em> ‘I do’.  </em></p><p>There’s silence that follows in his subtle rejection, but Taehyun knows him. He knows a Choi Beomgyu that would look at him like he holds the world, and also a Choi Beomgyu that wouldn’t tear his gaze from a folder of papers until his name hangs dry off Taehyun’s lips by the fifteenth call. </p><p>It’s neither his fault nor Taehyun’s that nothing can be done about the way Beomgyu is in love with his work before he’s in love with him. </p><p>His lips quirk into a small, humourless smile before he follows Beomgyu out the door, a hand on his lower back. He doesn’t mind the nature of their relationship as long as there are moments like this that make it worth it—when Beomgyu happily sighs into his hair, hands on his neck, and they waltz in the space of his bedroom to music that only they could hear. </p><p>It makes them feel like it’s just them against the rest of the world; even the versions of themselves they wish they could discard. When Beomgyu isn’t the heir of the biggest winemaking company of the country. When Taehyun isn’t his Royal Highness Kang, the fourth prince of South Korea. When they don’t have to hide behind closed doors because one careless move can end everything they’ve ever worked for and possibly both their lives. </p><p>‘A prince, gay and in love with a famous corporate heir’ surely does make a good newspaper headline, yet not a good reality to live in. </p><p>“Good luck at your meeting,” He quietly whispers when he pulls Beomgyu back into another hug in the hallway, pressing a fleeting kiss to his hair. It’s jarring how the older is taller than him but feels so small as he’s cowering snugly in the embrace of his arms. Physics, like God, works in mysterious ways.</p><p>Beomgyu lets himself rest his chin on Taehyun’s shoulder, a fond smile on his face that no one bears witness to save for the bust of Apollo resting against a pillar to his one o’clock. “You should return to the palace. Your guards are scary.” He whispers when he pulls back, hands stroking Taehyun’s shoulders. </p><p>Just when the mental timer in his clock hits zero—signifying that they have to leave now if they want to arrive at the meeting exactly fifteen minutes before the client does—the door opposite his opens. Right on time and without flaw. Practice really does make perfect. </p><p>He can hear their voices before they see them, two tall figures basically stuck together by the hips as they squeeze through the door like it’ll kill to separate. Not that he isn’t used to it by now, but it still twists his guts like it’s the first. Never gets old. What exasperating lovebirds. </p><p>Yeonjun’s voice echoes down the empty hallway first before it’s accompanied by Soobin’s silent laugh. “You and your aspiring CEO shit. I swear to Christ, Soobin. It doesn’t kill to be a little late to a meeting sometimes. Be gay, do crimes. You’re almost 26. Life doesn’t wait for you!”</p><p>He continues to drone on, a hand slung around the taller’s shoulder as they walk down the corridor; toward where Beomgyu’s still standing with Taehyun. Soobin’s eyes gaze up to meet his, and Beomgyu only flashes him a tinge of a smile. Nothing he’s never seen at this point, but he knows Soobin still feels embarrassed every time. Him and his manners. Dainty. </p><p>“Yeah, I wouldn’t either. A minute more and I’m leaving without you. Chop chop.” He says with a snort, waiting for them to finally be at his pace before all four of them start descending the corridor. </p><p>This, under any other circumstances, would be awfully immoral. It is his lawfully wedded husband that has a hand wrapped around someone else’s waist. It's his husband that Yeonjun continues to shamelessly feel up and down even as they reach the living room where a cluster of maids and guards stand awaiting. </p><p>“Taehyun!” The pink haired male finally exclaims, like he just now realises that Taehyun’s there all along. The only response the blond gives back is a small, curt nod. “Oh, or should I say Your Grace?”</p><p>He watches as Taehyun lets out a chuckle. Beomgyu’s probably the only person in the room that can sense the lack of humour in it, but he stays quiet as he departs from his lover and approaches Soobin. Yeonjun does the same, the both of them trading places with the oldest of the bunch wrapping his arms around Taehyun’s shoulder instead. </p><p>“Hyung, seriously. Cut it out.” He says, briefly rolling his eyes. Beomgyu watches the interaction, amused. Taehyun’s a bit of a sheltered person with the personality of a cat, but he can tell that Yeonjun’s beginning to grow on him with his consistent attempts at conversation. It’s a nice change to see. </p><p>“Don’t tell me you took off our wedding ring?” A voice resounds from next to him, and he’s turned to an unimpressed Soobin staring accusatively at his left hand. Beomgyu just scoffs, feeling a bit personally offended at the statement before he pulls it out of his blazer pocket, showing the ring on full display like he’s saying <em> ‘in your face’. </em> </p><p>Soobin’s eyebrows just raise in defeat. How dare he imply that he’s a lousy person.  “I may be many things, but a forgetful spouse is not one of them.”</p><p>“Sure. You’re so loyal,” Soobin quickly chimes back, eyes glinting snidely at his remark. Beomgyu has to give it to him and let out a laugh he’s trying to stifle. “You too. I’m so lucky to marry you.”</p><p>“Hold onto that.” His lips twist at the jab, but his hand still holds out for Beomgyu to link his arm into, regardless. The younger chuckles, doing just what’s expected of him. Now that completes the look of a happily wedded couple and two of the youngest, most successful heirs of the nation. Picture perfect. </p><p>Their actual boyfriends stand to the side of their living room, still engrossed in their own conversations even when Soobin and Beomgyu wave them goodbye. Taehyun’s doing more of the listening while Yeonjun does more of the talking, but they get along just fine like that. It’s like watching a loud cat and a quiet cat trying to converse. It’s a fun sight that both Soobin and Beomgyu find equally endearing. </p><p>As they leave through the main entrance and slip right into the backseat of an already opened limousine, Beomgyu quietly reminisces just how his life has changed in the past several months. </p><p>The arrangement is nice. It somehow turned out to be way nicer than Beomgyu’s anticipated it to be. First of all, they get to move out, buy their own home, do whatever they want as long as it doesn’t concern anyone else. </p><p>And that means having their boyfriends over any time their convenience allows them (not enough to Taehyun’s liking, but very generously spared at the cost of Beomgyu making arduous calls to his assistant). Yeonjun’s schedule is the most hectic out of them all—him being an A-list idol with millions of eyes tracking his every move among other reasons Beomgyu doesn’t care enough about to keep up with. </p><p>But true love exists, right? He thinks, because love really does find a way just like how Yeonjun never fails to visit Soobin at least once every week. </p><p>And he won’t complain. There are very little bad things he could say about Yeonjun. He probably likes him more than the dude’s boyfriend, which is ironic considering how Soobin’s the one he stood on the altar with. If he has a choice between the two of them, really, he just knows Soobin wouldn’t stand a chance. </p><p>Beomgyu likes it when Yeonjun’s around, because one; the guy’s likeable as hell. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to get someone to like him. Must be the side effect that comes with being a public figure so well liked by everyone. If he gets Taehyun to tolerate his presence, he might as well be able to do just about anything. That’s as bad as it gets.</p><p>And two; Soobin’s a completely different person when he’s around. Which means less of a cold and stoic bitch face, and more of a dimpled smiling Soobin. Another day without having to deal with Soobin’s antics is another day of sun for Beomgyu. </p><p>It really worked out in the best possible way it could be, and Beomgyu’s shocked to say the least. Even when he met up with Kai the other day to share his amazement, the younger male gleefully agreed. <em> ‘Knew you were smart but I honestly had doubts about this one, hyung. So glad to see that I’m proven wrong.’ He said then, happily sipping his cup of hot chocolate. Beomgyu was delighted as he was equally offended.  </em></p><p>However, the most surprising discovery he’s made thus far pertains to the male sitting cross legged next to him, nose buried into his phone (probably texting Yeonjun or looking over any last minute details of the file his secretary sent for the meeting, he can’t tell.) </p><p>But the point is, Soobin doesn’t turn out to be as much of a jackass he’s braced himself to be. He remembers being ten times more shocked than he is now when the realisation initially hit, but with less grudge to hold and less spite to feel, maybe he can see eye to eye with the fact. Maybe Soobin isn’t as bad as he thought he was, and maybe that’s a good thing. He can only hope that it stays that way. </p><p>As long as their now joint business continues to flourish and Taehyun can still come home to him whenever he needs, Beomgyu’s happy to tolerate whatever repercussions this arrangement can bring. </p><p>The car finally stops in front of a luxurious restaurant, and Soobin reaches past him to twist the door open before he could. “No more pet names in front of the client this time. The other day you’ve embarrassed me enough.” </p><p>This, however, still gets him sometimes. </p><p>He retorts when both of them climb out of the backseat, the chauffeur having already closed the door behind them. “Is that so, darling? You seem to play along just fine from what I can remember.”</p><p>Soobin shoots him an unimpressed look, offering his hand for Beomgyu to link his in again. They’ve gotten into the habit of doing this so many times that Beomgyu’s body remembers to reciprocate it before he can command it otherwise. </p><p>After that, they say nothing, continuing to walk down the red carpet leading up to the front of the Michellin Star. Who picked this restaurant? He prefers Chateau Marmont. </p><p>“If this goes well, can you be the one presenting next time? I don’t like the French.” Beomgyu whispers under his breath after giving a waitress on standby a small nod. Soobin does the same to the one on their right, responding after a soft sigh. “Why, is it because you’re worse at French than I am? Do I need to hire a tutor?”</p><p>“Why are you chastising me? The Italian clients like me better than you do. They always compliment my pronunciations, and our numbers always turn back higher with them.” He bites back as they’re following a manager who’s redirecting them to the VIP room. “Also, the steak here’s good. I don’t give a shit about keeping my manners and eating prettily. I’m going all in. Fine dining except there’s no fine to it, just vore.”</p><p>It’s becoming obvious to Soobin that Beomgyu evidently cares less about scoring a successful contract with this company and more about anything else but. Suddenly, he remembers the pre-marriage Choi Beomgyu and his dauntless reputations. Surely now he can say that it does precede him. What happened to the infamous stern, strict and most diligent youngest vice president of the whole alcohol industry? </p><p>Something about how Beomgyu is known to be the cut-throat, hardworking person to anyone but him amuses the taller. What is it about them and Beomgyu only resorting to a petulant, whiny child when there’s only him around? Is this one of the side effects of the arrangement that he didn’t brace himself for? Is this what marriage does to people? Make them lose their sanity? Sounds perfectly understandable. </p><p>He continues to ponder these unimportant thoughts at the mere disposal of his amusement when they’re tucked into their own chairs at the table. “You never eat prettily anyway. Next heir of Choi Industries, yet the table etiquette of a devious child.”</p><p>He gets a grape thrown at his face for that, and Soobin only laughs. Beomgyu hates that he’s proving his point. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A few days later following the meeting, something fruitful finally comes out of their negotiation. </p><p>“You’re going to Corsica.” His dad says in a still, booming voice from where he’s seated behind his desk, sound of papers flipping accompanying the silence that follows. </p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t bat an eyelash and continues to stare at his phone. Next to him, Soobin perks up a bit, sits a little straighter, jaw tipping up in a way to indicate that he’s paying attention. He’s still got that exemplary son-in-law mode on. </p><p>What model student behaviour. Beomgyu’s willing to bet money that this guy was the prime and proper valedictorian of the campus. Probably graduated with a shiny badge of honour on top of his degree and all. </p><p>He’s been drilled into the business since the prime age of 20 as soon as he finished his bachelor’s. Going on a business trip isn’t something he gets giddy about anymore when he learns of the deception of it all. </p><p>When he was an amateur, fresh to the scene, he’d celebrate the news whenever his dad tells him he gets to tag along on one of his extravagant endeavours. He’d get so excited that he wouldn’t sleep, spending all night packing and picking his most impressive suit for a round trip that doesn’t even round up to 48 hours total. </p><p>And that is until he realises the true, awful, tedious nature that goes into the ‘business’ part of the trip. He was too fixated on the ‘trip’ part that he completely forgot the more exhausting aspect of it. </p><p>When Beomgyu learned that his life was all a lie, it was already too late. Going on a business trip is the most boring thing to ever happen to him. </p><p>All he gets to do is sit still and look pretty next to his father like some arm candy, so he can <em> ‘get the hang of it for when he has to go on his own’. </em>He doesn’t even get to talk or insert his opinion into the discussion. </p><p>Just introducing himself, saying his name and that he’s the only son, and his part of the script is done for the remainder of the scene. If the clients are engaging, they’d ask him a shallow question that he gets to smile and nod at. Fun times. </p><p>“When?” He asks from where he’s at on the couch of the lounge area in his father’s office. Said office takes up almost half the space of the top floor in their company building. Beomgyu’s very own office is situated directly below, nowhere near the same size but big enough to still make an impression. Chairman privileges. One day he’ll get to sit in here, and not on the couch. </p><p>“The flight’s scheduled to be three days from now.” Soobin is the one who answers him, already pulling up the PDF of their purchased tickets on his tablet screen. Beomgyu blankly gazes at it for a good second, just so he won’t look rude for asking and not paying attention when really, he doesn’t care. He’s not a man for unnecessary details. Useful information over redundant information is his life motto. </p><p>And that’s when another piece of useful information hits him. “Isn’t the board meeting with the Choi Group also three days from now?” His eyebrows shoot up at the realisation, head whipping to meet his father’s eyes. “Who booked the tickets? What lousy time management.”</p><p>His father’s face flattens, lips pressing into a linear line before he answers almost comically, “Me.” </p><p>The two solid seconds of utter silence that followed was theatrical comedy. Soobin just blinks curiously next to him, obviously wanting to ask why, but knows better than to not keep his mouth shut. </p><p>Because Beomgyu’s the louder one between the two of them, and Beomgyu’s also the one that’s more likely to trade his right kidney to have the first word with God. So he lets Beomgyu speak, because he knows he will. </p><p>The shorter male in question sits up straight, eyebrows furrowed the same time his lips open. Bingo. “But why would you do that? You wouldn’t be present for the meeting, and you’re the most important person that—” </p><p>“Which is why <em> you’re </em>going, my son.” The chairman cuts him off, abrupt and stern, eyes staring pointedly at him and flitting to the male by his side. “You and Soobin,” And the two addressed persons are caught exchanging a dumbfounded gaze. “You two will go on your own. I trust that I’ve taught you enough to successfully handle the affairs of this project without my presence, Beomgyu.”</p><p>Suddenly, his past perception of what a business trip usually entails erases itself clean. Suddenly, the term is redefined. His eyes round up in a mixture of surprise and anticipation. Has his father finally acknowledged his potentials enough to let him ‘hold the ropes’ instead of ‘getting the hang of it’ this time? </p><p>“Of course, father.” He responds without fail, tone sharp and crisp. His father only gives him a single nod, turning to Soobin who impossibly straightens up even more under his gaze. It’s called the corporate stare, a super rare mastery skill you only possess when you’re at the very top of the chain. “And I trust that you’ll take care of matters just as smoothly, Soobin.” A beat later, he adds. “And my son too, without saying.” </p><p>The small, proud dad smile he flashes at them after saying that makes Beomgyu burn ten shades of crimson, wanting to be swallowed by the couch. The man next to him just does a small, polite chuckle that’s so fake it grinds his bones. “Absolutely, father.”</p><p>“Then that’s settled,” His father reciprocates, breaking his business negotiation posture and leaning back comfortably into his chair. Beomgyu sees a bit of himself in the action and realises with mirth that he must’ve taken that trait from his father. All proper and military until they score the deal, then it’s all back to slouching. “My secretary will take care of the boring paperwork stuff. You should get it by lunch time.”</p><p>The two next heirs just nod in comprehension. Beomgyu is just about to stand up, straightening his tie and dusting off invisible dust from his blazer. “Anything else we need to know?”</p><p>“It’s a two week trip. Details of the project shouldn’t be more than what you already know. Just ensure that the one we’ll be launching with them this time exceeds the marginal sales of the last. Investors were barely sated with that one.”</p><p>His lips twist in thought as he listens, eyes roaming the side profile of Soobin’s focused face out of boredom. The older looks like if he stares hard enough he’d be sucked through a portal to Corsica right this second. Beomgyu stifles a snort at the thought. </p><p>“Oh, and your mothers are tagging along. I made the mistake of sharing the brief details last week, and your mum mentioned that she could do with a small vacation to France with Soobin’s mum. Female bonding and stuff that I clearly don’t know enough about to refute.”</p><p>And that’s when his ideal image of a relaxed, happy little business trip to an island he was building in his head fell apart. So much for relishing in two weeks without having to pretend to be in love with Soobin and away from his parents’ prying eyes. </p><p>Now that daydream is jinxed, with but a horrifying nightmare. Beomgyu wants to ‘Ctrl + Z’ his thoughts to un-jinx it. </p><p>Did he just hear that right? His father’s just joking, right? Stuck with not only <em>his </em>mother but also his mother-in-<em>law</em> on an island for two weeks where they’d see each other more than they already do at work. </p><p>And on top of it all, two weeks without seeing Taehyun. If he thinks he’s not going to do well with the distance, Taehyun’s going to do even worse. His boyfriend score is going to drop dangerously low. He might be voted out by the next elimination round if this keeps up. </p><p>Beomgyu’s heart stops the same moment Soobin’s does when they inadvertently meet eyes in fear. It only lasts for a moment until his father speaks up again, apparently not catching onto the shift of atmosphere. </p><p>“Their travel plans will be handled separately. I’ve arranged to rent for a top-hill mansion for the vacation, where all four of you will be staying. The ladies want to plan their own agenda, and your mother insists she wants the liberty to roam around as she pleases.” His father stops to rub the space between his eyebrows, looking more stressed to deliver the news than the recipient themselves. </p><p>“Don’t worry about it having any affect on your business meetings. Neither your mum nor Soobin’s will interfere with your schedule. Most involvement you’ll have is when you return to the mansion. Perhaps catch a meal with them if you deem it fitting.” </p><p>He carries on with his monologue, absolutely missing the fear-stricken look in his son’s eyes. “I should get the booking confirmation and full address by coffee break. Everything’s settled and ready to go, so there’s no need to exhaust ourselves over petty details. I know you don’t necessarily favour that, my son.” </p><p>He’s finally talking to Beomgyu now, eyes meeting his and suddenly he has to school his expression into neutrality. Okay, mansion, shared home, a meal a day, then into their separate bedrooms and he gets to do whatever he wants. Sounds absolutely manageable. </p><p>“Besides, some quality time with them is probably overdue. Do well with the sampling, but also enjoy yourselves while you still can. You kids were so busy with work that you didn’t even get to go on a honeymoon.” That big, proud dad smile is on his face again, and Beomgyu feels anything but proud of himself right now. He wants to gag himself and fall into an opera-worthy death on this couch. “Consider this my wedding gift to you. Rest assured about the board meeting, all will go well as per usual.”</p><p>Absolutely not manageable. Beomgyu feels the sudden urge to break out into a wail. </p><p>“Understood, father.” Soobin responds while Beomgyu wordlessly nods along. Dread fills every vein of his body, injecting his system with unease that feels like poison in his blood. (He may as well apply for a job on Broadway with how melodramatic his internal monologues are right now.)  </p><p>Alas, on the outside he looks totally indifferent and unaffected—as he should. He’s mastered the art of this elite tier skill called 'corporate bitch face'. Very versatile skill to pick up; helps you get through any situation possible and convinces you to think that everything’s fine even when it isn’t looking the part. (Right now’s one of those situations.)</p><p>“You may leave now,” His father says, and they both stand up in unison. Beomgyu is perfectly upright, straighter than a pillar. It’s probably the only thing straight about him. “Best of luck.” He offers, and the couple responds with their muttered bid of thanks. </p><p>Before, business trips were more business-y than trip-y; but he could still make do with some degree of entertainment. Lounging in his hotel room and trying all the champagne on the menu until he’s pissed drunk counts as one. </p><p>Now, it’s a classic with a modern twist—a business trip, except there’s nothing trip-y about it. Feels nothing different from getting sent to jail for committing a third-degree hate crime (not that he would know, he’s purely hypothesising). </p><p>And when they look back, exactly six months from now, God knows how much they’ll regret this. </p><p>The first step they take whilst exiting the chairman’s office—unbeknownst to them—is also the very step that marks the oncoming series of things that would altercate their lives. Trips usually change your lives in one way or another, the impact whether small or big. It’s just poor planning on their part that they just didn’t prepare for how this one was going to deconstruct it. </p><p>Poor planning. That was also the first step of their neat little foolproof plan’s repercussions catching up to them. Seems like there’s nothing proof-y about it after all—less proof, more fool; because that’s what they are, really. Fools who wanted to be the author of their fates, penning stories their way and tearing off pages where they’re dissatisfied so they can stitch in their own renditions. </p><p>This is where the real story begins. The trip acts as the mere prologue of the book; a foreword (fore for foreboding, and word for ones they shouldn’t have exchanged on that altar). </p><p>“Where in the hell is Corsica, anyway?”</p><p>“One of the many islands in France. Mediterranean sea. Lots of mountains and beaches. Coastal towns, excellent grapes and amazing wine. Did you not pay attention in geography in high school?”</p><p>Little do they know.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you guys liked it so far! lots of framework but things will soon kick off in the second chapter &lt;3 '</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/soobivert">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/soobivert">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. so it goes...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As expected, Taehyun isn’t very happy about their new development.</p><p>Beomgyu, bearer of said news, had to deliver it through a hasty phone call late after dinner—because he doesn’t have the guts to witness his boyfriend’s sad cat face in real time. </p><p>No one wants to see a sad cat, especially if said cat is your significant other whom you’ve been in love with for years; and disappointing in terms of being a good boyfriend for almost just as long. </p><p>“Two weeks? Really? Can’t it be shorter?’’ He can almost hear the way his boyfriend’s nose scrunches up if he listens hard enough. </p><p>This is the <em> ‘letting your boyfriend down because you don’t make enough time for him since you’re more in love with your work than you are with him, according to him’ </em> corporate skill; rare-level, which Beomgyu has spent years cultivating and enhancing. He’s probably the only one in the world to reach awakening state mastery for it. It’s not something he’s necessarily proud of. </p><p>The male gulps down a lump forming in his throat, “It’ll come and go, I promise. It’ll fly by so fast you won’t even notice I was gone at all. I’ll FaceTime you every day!” </p><p>“I <em> always </em>notice when you’re gone.” Taehyun responds immediately, almost too quickly that he has to take a pause right after. Then, “your presence is so uproariously loud that the lack of it puts your absence in a silence deafening more than.” </p><p>“Okay, you learned your Shakespeare. There’s no need to flex your royalty-level education on my BA.’’ He laughs a little, trying to lift up the somber mood, head sinking back as he turns to starfish on his bed. </p><p>Days ago, Taehyun was just here with him, nose buried into his neck. It feels like it’s been longer than it should, the memory almost distant to the brunet. </p><p>“We literally met in university,” the blond quickly bites back and they both chuckle in synchrony. </p><p>(For that one, singular moment where no other sounds were made except for their laughters and soft breaths, everything felt alright. Beomgyu almost convinces himself that he’s got this.)</p><p>“Are you gonna be alright?” Taehyun asks, tone lowered this time in a way that sounds more concerned than Beomgyu would want it to be. </p><p>Because his boyfriend asked and he finds it hard to say no to him, now he has to face the issue he’s spent all night avoiding.</p><p>Taehyun raised a valid point. How is <em> he </em>going to be alright, having to pretend he’s in love with Choi Soobin 24/7 starting the moment they board the plane? </p><p>They’ll have time for themselves only at night when their parents are asleep, and when they’re away for business purposes. Other than that, the time left is under monitoring scrutiny of their hawking mothers. </p><p>And like most mothers who are nosey about their children’s love lives, theirs are no different—especially when they’re newlyweds who're on their supposed honeymoon. </p><p>So yeah, is he going to be alright? Good question. <em> Very </em>good question. </p><p>But of course that isn’t what he says in response to an overly concerned boyfriend. All he says is a small sigh punctuated with a resolute, “of course, why wouldn’t I be? We’ve been doing it for months. We got the hang of it. You have nothing to worry about, Tyun.”</p><p>There’s a small pause from the other line, a second of prolonged silence. A silence that conveyed what Taehyun wanted to say better than any word in the Korean language. Then, “if you say so, hyung. Get some sleep.”</p><p>“I will, babe. Goodnight. I love you,” he whispers, one eye closing as the other blankly stares at the Renaissance mural on his bedroom ceiling. </p><p>“Love you more, Beomgyu.” Taehyun whispers back before the line discontinues. Beomgyu almost misses the way the blond dropped the honorific, only addressing him by name. </p><p>He only does that when something’s wrong. </p><p>But when he takes his Airpods off and closes his other eye, he eventually forgets to ponder why. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Don’t get him wrong, Beomgyu loves his mother. </p><p>He loves her dearly. He’s a very grateful and appreciative son, always looking for opportunities to repay her kindness. His mother—whom he likes to think he takes after—is a kind and loving woman, full of grace and a heart the size of her chest. She has raised him with due diligence, and Beomgyu could never dream of asking for a better parent. Their family of three is picture perfect as it is equally heartwarming. A jack of all trades. Being her son is among one of his biggest blessings in this life. </p><p>Just not right now. </p><p>“Beomgyu, did you apply sunscreen? Don’t sit next to the window, let Soobin do it. I heard the air pressure from the window isn’t good for you.” </p><p>His mother nags, pulling his hands from his lap and spraying an intoxicating amount of sunscreen on them. Even when he’s wearing a cardigan that extends past his palms when rolled down, his mother goes so far as to roll them back up past his elbows. </p><p>They’re not even going to be exposed to the sun. It’s 11PM. </p><p>“Yes, mother, I have. And that’s false, airplane windows are made up of three layers of tempered glass. Nothing from the clouds and the altitude can possibly harm me.” He says, tone sharp in retaliation but gaze fond as he lets his mother do as she pleases. 24 years of living and he’s still never too old to receive coddling from her. </p><p>Next to him, Soobin lets out a snicker that he obviously tries to muffle. Beomgyu, whose senses are heightened due to annoyance, did not miss it for the world. </p><p>He just shoots him a pointed stare, brows lowered in annoyance, saying <em> ‘what’s so damn funny?’ </em>with his gaze. Soobin just does one of his mocking frowns. “I’m fine with taking the window seat, mother.”</p><p>Beomgyu’s mum shoots the older a grin that beams brighter than all the stars in the milky way. He had to flinch. “You are the best! See, Beomgyu, listen to your husband. He’s so caring. Don’t know how you got so lucky.” </p><p>She reaches in to give the taller male a very firm pat on his shoulder. Totally unnecessary in Beomgyu’s opinion. It’s not like he saved a country. </p><p>Why is it that both of his parents prefer Soobin over him? What does Soobin have as a son that he doesn’t? Has he been replaced? </p><p>“If you want a window seat, you can always take mine, Beomgyu-yah.” It is now Soobin’s mother that quietly speaks up, flashing him a warm smile. </p><p>Beomgyu instantaneously smiles back, already feeling tons better about coming second to his mum. At least he is first in someone else’s eyes.. At least Soobin’s parents adore him. After all, his people-pleasing skills aren’t for naught. Is this what marriage does to people? </p><p>Unlike Soobin himself, his mum is a total angel; even her sole presence is utterly comforting. She’s poise and elegant in all the right ways, carrying herself like true royalty. It’s funny how the Choi’s are more royal than the only actual royalty Beomgyu does know. It blows his mind how Soobin is a spitting image of her in that aspect. Prim and proper, copied and pasted. “I don’t mind sitting by my son for the flight, if you don’t.” </p><p>“No, mother. It’s quite alright. Father informed me that this trip was meant to be a vacation for you two as much as it’s an important business affair for us. It’s best not to separate.” He replies with a tone so sickeningly sweet that his own mother’s face contorts in jealousy. </p><p>He doesn’t even talk to his own mum like that. One of the most mysterious happenings following a marriage is just how in-laws tend to be much nicer to each other than their own flesh and blood. Perhaps his parents and Soobin’s can discuss a switch of heirs. Beomgyu would absolutely have no objections. </p><p>Call him spoiled for being an only child, but he’s sick of being treated inferiorly to someone else in his own home. The fact that said someone else is his own husband does little to comfort him. </p><p>“Our flight’s been announced,” Soobin breaks the sweet mother-to-son interaction with a booming voice as he stands up, points at the monitor just above their heads and picks up his mother’s carry-on’s. “First class gets to board first. Mothers, let’s go.”</p><p>Beomgyu follows suit, slinging his own backpack over his shoulder, too engrossed in explaining where their seats are to his mum when he feels a force dip from his back. </p><p>“Babe, let me hold that for you.”</p><p>The pet name shocks him so much that it makes him feel like his consciousness was slammed head first into the flightboard. When he finally turns to meet Soobin’s eyes, the male is flashing him a warm smile Beomgyu’s never seen directed at him before in his life. Even at the altar he didn’t look this affectionate. </p><p>“Your backpack.” Soobin prompts before sliding the strap off Beomgyu’s shoulder and throwing it behind his own. “Let’s go.”</p><p>Someone carrying his travel luggage is definitely high on his list of favourite romantic gestures. If he isn’t too busy being a little stunned at the sudden acting, this would look so romantic. His thought is confirmed when he can hear his mother and Soobin’s exchanging an excited coo. </p><p>When they pass through the gates and the ladies are too busy engrossed in eager conversations, Soobin’s pace falls into unison with his, leaning closely to whisper into his ear. “From now on, don’t slip. The driver told me they wouldn’t stop talking about us the entire ride to the airport.”</p><p>Beomgyu catches his eyes and solemnly nods, not saying another word as the flight attendants direct them to their seats. “How long is this flight anyway?”</p><p>“Three transfers. Two international, one domestic from Paris. Father would’ve brought out the private jet, but mother wanted the ‘true tourist experience’.” Soobin sighs as he speaks, already slumping into his seat. He takes the window seat after all, but Beomgyu doesn’t feel like putting up a fight. So he lets it slide, getting into the one next to it. He’ll fight for it on the next flight. </p><p>The good thing about flying first class is that you get your own mini cubicles, and since their mothers are seated in front of them, they don’t have to pretend to be all over each other for the time being. The real show doesn’t start until they exit the plane, and according to the little flight-tracking monitor on his armchair, he has about eight more hours until then. </p><p>When he turns to steal a glance at Soobin, he’s already pulling out the stack of papers Beomgyu recognises as the project contract, flipping through them attentively. Truly the next CEO material. </p><p>The other CEO-in-line just huffs at the overachiever and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes. It’s teddy bear printed, because he’s a firm believer of having to look cute while snoozing, especially in a public space. </p><p>As long as he knows Soobin’s being the diligent one for the two of them, he’s taking that opportunity to slack. It’s one of the rare qualities of their dynamics—Beomgyu, an only child who is used to being the sole overachiever in his life, then enters someone who’s even more of an overachiever than he is. He realises that it’s nice to be lazy once in a while. </p><p>He’ll just ask about the details later when they’re walking off the plane. Soobin wouldn’t even complain, just gets into it straight away like he’s been waiting for him to ask. </p><p>It’s one of his only good traits—he perfectly seems like the type to let you borrow your notes when you fell asleep in class, and the type to explain the part of the movie you missed out on when you went to the bathroom. It’s a characteristic that Beomgyu finds redeeming, so he’s going to keep milking that for the time being. </p><p>And when the world pulls the plug on itself and morphs into pitch black darkness, Beomgyu logs off reality and mentally advances into his personal dreamland. Earth to everyone else but Beomgyu. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Earth to Beomgyu?” </p><p>He registers the hand waving in front of his face before he hears his husband’s voice. Beomgyu blinks a few times, putting down his backpack before doing a slow-motion spin-around. (Taking in his change of surroundings, protagonist style.)</p><p>There’s this guy clad in a suit, brass name tag and white gloves and all, droning off to his right about the alleged world-class luxury only their accommodation agency can provide. (He’s trying his luck on the wrong guy, because Beomgyu surely isn’t absorbing any of it. He knows better than to fall victim to the prettily strung words he spews for a living.)</p><p>The only thing he <em> did </em>absorb though, was something so seemingly insignificant that everyone else but him glossed over in a breeze. “There’s how many bedrooms?” He asks, gaze still blanking out like he’s looking at the man but not quite. If looks could burn, there’d be a scorching laser beam impaling him all the way from the side of his head to the wall five feet behind him. </p><p>“Two, <em> monsieur </em>.” He glances back at him, meeting Beomgyu’s unreadable eyes while answering like it was matter-of-fact. It certainly does not feel so matter-of-fact for Beomgyu. </p><p>There’s only two bedrooms, and there’s four of them. Which means they’ll have to share. Which means the math isn’t mathing. Which means… </p><p>Beomgyu blinks rapidly, his sensibility returning to him like a splash of cold water. “Right. Two. Yes, carry on. You were saying about the backyard pool?”</p><p>Brisking past them, some employees roll through with a bell cart, unloading their luggages into the designated rooms. He watches as his goes into the master bedroom—and much to his dismay, also Soobin’s. </p><p>They have to share a bed for the next two weeks. And somehow Beomgyu didn’t think thoroughly enough to plan for this possibility.</p><p>Of course, it’s normal for a married couple to sleep in the same room. Why would they need to stay separately? This is their honeymoon of sorts, so of course his father selected the accommodation requirements with that in mind. What’s there to be panicked about? </p><p>The answer is everything. </p><p>Because they aren’t a real couple, and despite having lived together for almost six months, Beomgyu has never once slept in the same bed as Soobin. And looking back, <em> of course </em> it made perfect sense to at least anticipate this possibility—why is he so stupid? </p><p>Next to him, Soobin isn’t even the least bit surprised. His corporate poker face is still top-notch, looking completely immersed in everything the guide has to say. He fakes it so well. </p><p>(It seems like he’s the only one taken aback by this development. Somehow that makes him feel like he just took an L.)</p><p>They trudge along behind the guide, letting him direct them through various aspects of the mansion—the bedrooms, the living room, the kitchen, the gym, the home theatre, the sauna, the bar area, etcetera. To his surprise, there’s even a music room, an indoor pool at the balcony of their master bedroom and another one much bigger in the backyard. Truly a vacation home. It doesn’t compare to theirs, but it surely is an impressive feat to do by. </p><p>Their mothers have long disappeared, following a maid off somewhere into the garden in the courtyard. Only the heads of the household; in this case him and Soobin, are still present for the mansion tour. </p><p>It’s not like they need this, really. He knows it’s just courtesy from the agency, when they can just go off to roam on their own. How come a mansion so big only has two bedrooms, however, is his only question. Will it kill to insert another bed? Would it be even weirder to ask? </p><p>He decides he’d keep the questions to himself when the tour wraps. They exchange their common formalities before the guy exits, only leaving them with the maids. Why do they even need these many maids? Now, Beomgyu’s beginning to feel a bit guilty for the indulgence of this trip. </p><p>“Is this all necessary?” He asks as soon as they’re left alone in their master bedroom. Beomgyu immediately plunges into the mattress, plopping with a tiny bounce. The bed is king sized and surely comforting, so for that aspect, Beomgyu has yet to issue any complaints. (He’ll save them later for when he goes to the music room, if there’s no full-sized grand piano there.)</p><p>Soobin walks past him to discard his jacket onto a random chair. The younger stares up at the ceiling, and it turns out that there’s no Renaissance mural. One star deduction for this company as soon as he goes on Booking.com. </p><p>“After all, this is supposed to be our honeymoon.” The last word feels like it’s been spat out with bitter vigour when Soobin says it, almost making Beomgyu convulse at the impact. He just makes a face, brows furrowed when he turns to look at the older, “gross. I thought only people in movies go on actual honeymoons.”</p><p>Soobin hums, and Beomgyu feels the left side of the bed sink when the male seats himself. “It’s supposed to be a splurge of sorts. A getaway for a newly wedded couple.”</p><p>“Yeah, but we’ve been married for almost six months. And plus, it’s kind of cruel to send us on a business trip and a honeymoon at the same time, no? And with our mothers tagging along too, just what kind of honeymoon is that?” Beomgyu knows he’s asking the real questions when the older doesn’t respond immediately with a witty comeback. </p><p>He gets a small, humourless chuckle from Soobin when he sits up against the headboard, cushioning his back with a bunch of pillows. Are they sure that this bed is made for two people? How can two people possibly need these many amounts of cushions? </p><p>“It’s more of a business slash family trip. Don’t be so sour, maybe it’s not so bad after all. For one, we get a good view of the ocean from our balcony.” Soobin prompts, hand reaching up to loosen the tie around his neck. Why is he even wearing a tie? It’s not like they’re going to be off to meet the client as soon as they land. </p><p>Or are they? </p><p>“Stop lazing around and get dressed. Maxence’s assistant just texted me and said they’re sending a car in fifteen minutes. We’re expected to meet them for dinner.”</p><p>Beomgyu almost wants to fold himself in half and kick the sheets like a crossed toddler. </p><p>Of course they are. Such corporate busybodies. Why did he think sleeping on the flight was a good idea? He should’ve at least familiarized himself with the agenda. </p><p>Dramatically sitting up, he asks, mouth open, “Right now? I haven’t even finished reading through the brief.”</p><p>“Yes, right now. And no, it’s just a welcome dinner. They just wanted to greet us after a long flight. Are you not already used to these common courtesies?”</p><p>Beomgyu flops back onto the bed, hand running through his hair. Thank goodness. “Yeah, but I was almost convinced that we were actually on a honeymoon and forgot about the whole, you know, reason why we’re here in the first place.”</p><p>Soobin shakes his head, patting the space next to him. “Get up. You have about thirty minutes until they get here. I’ll go inform our mothers.”</p><p>He feels like a child being nagged at for missing his alarm for school. Beomgyu only groans, shooting the older a pointed look. How did he end up being stuck on a two week trip with three mothers? “Understood, <em> monsieur. </em>What would I do without you?” </p><p>He means it sarcastically, but Soobin laughs in triumph anyway when he climbs off the bed. “Chateau Marmont?” He says, rapidly typing away at his phone. </p><p>Beomgyu’s kind of thankful that he isn’t meeting his eyes, because that made him smile. He isn’t sure he’d want Soobin to see that. “Aw, you remembered.”  </p><p>Soobin says nothing at his teasing attempt, just presses his lips a little tighter. Beomgyu watches his side profile for another moment with a snarky grin, missing the way the tip of his ears redden in the slightest. “Do you want to order in advance?”</p><p>The younger’s already off the bed, heading off toward their walk-in closet when he hollers, “just get me what you think I’d like.”</p><p>This definitely wasn’t the answer he was expecting, because Soobin looks up from his phone in surprise. The spot Beomgyu was occupying earlier is now empty, replaced with a closet door that’s been pushed open. “Funny, you’re normally a picky eater.”</p><p>Another heartbeat and a fluffy, messy-haired head pokes out of the closet. Beomgyu regards him with a grin. “Who knows, husband. I’m in a good mood today. Just no tomatoes.”</p><p>Soobin’s lip twists in a small snort. Of course he’s still a picky eater. “Wear red.” Unceremoniously, he speaks up before he walks past the walk-in closet and toward the door. </p><p>He hears a distanced, “why?” coming from the younger, probably already buried deep into the enclosed space. The older says nothing, reaches for the doorknob, and sees himself out. “Just because.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Beomgyu finds out thirty minutes later that Soobin wanted him to wear red just so they would match. </p><p>The look on his face when he finally walks into the living room is of pure exasperation, rolling his eyes and letting out a grunt. Do they really have to go to such lengths? Red isn’t even his favourite colour.</p><p>The man in question’s already present, waiting for him with back turned to the hallway. He’s got his cool guy pose on; hands tucked into his trouser pockets, hair neatly gelled back in a half-slick, eyes trailing off; staring at something through the gigantic glass window by the living room. He’s wearing red from almost head to toe— red on his suit blazer, red on his trousers, the pair of Brogues on his feet black with crimson details. </p><p>When Beomgyu steps closer, he recognises the suit almost immediately. <em> Valentino </em>. Him and his penchant for fashion. </p><p>What are the odds that the one he has on right now is also Valentino as well? The chances are surely low, yet definitely not low enough for them to not match down to the designer’s brand. He lets out a breathless snort. The irony.   </p><p>Soobin finally registers his muffled footsteps and turns around. (It’s like he’s doing it in slow-motion on purpose, so that Beomgyu can appreciate just how nicely he cleans up in great detail.)</p><p>Not that Beomgyu’s doing that right now as his eyes scan him from the toe up. Absolutely anything but that.</p><p>What follows is almost like a painted picture-perfect freeze frame. White dress shirt, black and red striped tie. A black vest lined with mahogany buttons. He’s surely got a theme going on, while Beomgyu on the other hand only thinks to dress similarly sans the vest. He may be a sucker for the dress-to-impress principle, but he is certainly not a tryhard. </p><p>“Why are you dressed like you’re going on a date?” Beomgyu’s already begun the teasing, a small smirk on his face as he stands toe to toe with his spouse. “Are you secretly having an affair with Maxence’s secretary behind my back? The chick with sharp eyes and pretty lips? Are you into blondes?”</p><p>Soobin huffs in record time, already not having any of his shenanigans. His lips part, some bullshit about to make their way through, when the main door bursts open. </p><p>It’s almost like a rehearsed sequence. Beomgyu’s hands fly to Soobin’s shoulders the same moment the older’s wrap around his waist—just as their mothers enter the living room. </p><p>They’re now locked into battle position. </p><p>Loud chatters fill the prior quiet space, and when their mothers lock eyes with Beomgyu’s, he already feels a force dip onto the side of his head. </p><p>“Nonsense, I’ve only got eyes for you.” He says against his forehead, a tad too loudly like he’s trying to broadcast it. The audience feedback comes in almost immediately when Beomgyu catches their mothers’ gazes softening. Soobin surely makes a commendable improv actor. </p><p>“Let’s go, the car’s in the driveway.” He says, finally pulling away and pretending to have noticed the ladies’ presence just now. “Oh. mothers. Hello. We’re just about to head off for dinner.” He does one of his half-bows that looks way too proper for an immediate family member. </p><p>Beomgyu’s mother just shakes her head and waves while Soobin’s flash them an endeared smile. “No problem, go off now, youngsters. Don’t forget to enjoy your night.” His mother-in-law says, giving Beomgyu a pat on the shoulder when they’re close enough. He says nothing and just does a polite nod. </p><p>His mother, on the other hand, operates like she’s got plans to embarrass him at all times. “Oh, and if you see the opportunity to have a bit more fun, feel free to return home a tad later. Stay out for as long as you like.” She says with the same proud grin his father had on in the office the other day. </p><p>Beomgyu can only sigh while Soobin chuckles. “Mother! We’re meeting our client, not going on a date.” </p><p>And that’s when she does a dramatic gasp, “really? Then why are you two dressed so handsomely? Matching and all.” She comments, eyeing them up and down to back up her statement. It shames Beomgyu that he can’t cleverly refute. </p><p>Soobin, however, seems to be better at this polite talk. He always knows what to do and say, already having a hand placed on Beomgyu’s lower back when he bows again. “Then, pardon us and enjoy your evening.”</p><p>“Areum, can you tell your son to be less polite? We’re already family yet he talks to me like I’m a lady his father introduced him to.” Beomgyu’s mother comments, sharing a small chuckle with the woman beside her. (Beomgyu inwardly thinks that his mum’s got a point, at the very least.)</p><p>Soobin doesn’t respond to the lighthearted comment, still politely smiling like the true gentleman he is. He really doesn’t slip up easily. After this is all over, and if being a CEO doesn’t work out for him, he should consider a side career in Broadway. </p><p>Beomgyu takes a mental note to verbalise that suggestion later on when they’re alone in the car. </p><p>“Have fun, lovebirds.”</p><p>(And with that, Scene One, Act One of the play is a wrap.)</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>“You think they’re asleep?” Beomgyu raises, voice tentatively quiet as he pushes through the main door of the mansion. Why do big, fancy houses require such big, fancy doors? Who would possibly need to fit through a five feet tall door in their home? </p><p>“Hopefully. I’m tired,” says Soobin from next to him, politely dismissing a maid on standby in the living room. She regards them with bright, elated eyes before doing a full-body bow and scurrying off. </p><p>Although they may be sickly wealthy, both Soobin and Beomgyu come from very moral families. In the Choi households, no form of overworking nor underpaying are to be tolerated to the staff, and no staff will ever be harmed in the making of this business trip. </p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to call Yeonjun?” Beomgyu says, his lone voice echoing through the hallway of the bedroom corridors. Their footsteps clink raucously against the sleek marble tiles, the rest of the house otherwise left in an eerie silence. As Beomgyu passes their mothers’ bedrooms, he notices how a dim source of light still yet emanates from the small gap underneath the door. Perhaps they’re still awake after all. </p><p>It’s almost midnight when they’re able to politely excuse themselves and return from dinner. The French are always the most polite, all particular about their etiquettes and courtesies. (By the time they properly exchange their goodbyes, twenty minutes have passed consisting of just them and their clients saying thank you back and forth.) </p><p>All that social interaction may be what Beomgyu feeds off of, but on a day where he just got off three different planes, it surely takes a toll on a person. </p><p>“It’s currently the ass crack of dawn in Korea,” says Soobin, a large hand running through his perfectly gelled hair to mess it up. Dishevelled strands then take turns falling like dominos, framing his face. The dim chandelier lights cast half of his side profile in a muted golden glow, and as they reach the front of their bedroom door, Beomgyu doesn’t understand why he can;t help but stare a little bit. </p><p>An odd thought strikes him at that very moment. It’s almost hilarious how they’ve spent numerous times being close to one another, yet this is the first that Beomgyu’s actually <em> regarding </em>him. Looking at him thoroughly, and letting his eyes take in just what Choi Soobin’s face has to offer. </p><p>The answer is a lot. He’s annoyingly handsome up close, and now that Beomgyu realises that fact, he doesn’t know how to act with that registered in his brain.  “It’s better that we sleep first and call them when it’s morning.” </p><p>Soobin pushes their door open and only turns to give him a look when he notices Beomgyu not following. The guy even holds the door for him, not saying a word, and even closes it as quietly as he can. Has he always been such a gentleman? </p><p>“What’s the agenda for tomorrow? When do we visit the factory?” Beomgyu pushes his thoughts aside and strides past the taller, undoing the single button holding his blazer together before performing a lousy stretch. </p><p>The older male is still standing by the door, slightly entertained at how the image of Beomgyu stretching reminds him uncannily of a cat. “We’re leaving at eight sharp. Need me to wake you up?”</p><p>“Ah, forgot you’re the early type. Going for a jog at five in the morning kind of guy. How despicable.” Beomgyu states, tone ridiculing. Anyone who gets up quicker than the sun itself should be given a special, designated spot in hell. </p><p>He hears Soobin do one of his humourless chuckles from behind him, watches as the taller male takes off his blazer and heads to the closet. He’s occupied in taking off his wedding ring and watch, leaving them on the nightstand by their bed. </p><p>“Can I take the right side of the bed? Also, are you gonna shower first? If you take too long, I’m gonna fall asleep waiting. I don’t like waiting, so make it qui—” </p><p>He’s about to do a head launch into the bed before he’s rudely interrupted by a hand pulling him by the wrist. </p><p>The unnecessary force makes him instantly choke on his words. Before he gets to register that, another hand flies up to cover his mouth. (What on Earth? Has he just been kidnapped in his own room?)</p><p>But his eyes flash up to meet the intruder of his personal space, and it turns out to be just Soobin. </p><p>If the latter notices the shock flashing in the younger’s wide eyes, he chooses to ignore it. His own expression itself is surprise stricken, eyebrows raised to the edge of his hairlines when he mouths, panicked,<em> ‘stop talking’ </em>. </p><p>Beomgyu blinks rapidly, his own brows furrowing, as if asking, <em> ‘why?’  </em></p><p>The older male doesn’t answer, only cocks his head to the door, and that’s when Beomgyu sees it. </p><p>He watches as the poor light coming from the hallway peeps through from under the bedroom door. And he watches as, one by one, shadows of footsteps begin to replace them, casting black spots that bounce off of the reflective material of their bedroom tile. Internally, he does a head count of the amount of foot he sees flocking the source of light. </p><p>One. Two. Three. Four. </p><p>Four feet. Two people. </p><p>His eyes meet Soobin’s in realisation, and the other male’s already staring at him expectantly when he brings his hand down from Beomgyu’s mouth. </p><p>It’s their mothers. They were awake all along, and they were waiting for them to come home. Beomgyu feels an outrageous ball of fury form at the lump of his throat. What the hell? </p><p>The former leans in, too uncomfortably close, whispering in his ear in a voice so hushed only Beomgyu can hear, “I heard their bedroom door closing just now when you were speaking.” </p><p>This instills a million questions inside Beomgyu’s previously lagging head, now perfectly alert with confusion. “Are they trying to spy on us?” </p><p>Soobin does a slow nod, lips pursing into a straight line. This does not help in trying to answer the said questions shooting through his brain. The first one on top of it all is, “why?”</p><p>He earns an unimpressed look from the elder almost immediately after, like he can’t believe Beomgyu would be this slow. (Soobin is always so judgemental, and it irks him. Can he blame him for never having a husband before?)</p><p>“After all, they’re mothers. Mothers are nosey.” Soobin begrudgingly explains, voice still kept low. “And this is supposed to be our honeymoon night.”</p><p>Honeymoon. Right.</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>When the dots finally connect in his head, Beomgyu’s eyes round up in alignment to his dropping jaws. Soobin can currently count three o’s on his face. </p><p>His face burns in embarrassment from the realisation—embarrassment from the fact that he’d forget such prevalent details, and embarrassment from what the term entails. </p><p>The shadows are still by their door, unmoving. He can’t even hear their own breathings from the tension that’s taking over the atmosphere. Their mothers are definitely having their ears pressed against the other side of that door. He just hopes the walls aren’t thin.</p><p>He feels like he’s ten again, on the stage of a spelling bee, prying eyes of his parents in the audience, staring at him like they’re waiting for something extraordinary to happen. When he opens his mouth again, he almost wants to kill himself on the spot at how much his words shake. “T-then, what are we supposed to—”</p><p>Soobin finally looks like he’s had enough of Beomgyu’s bullshit. He grunts softly, rolling his eyes before yanking the younger into him. The fluffy-haired male crashes against his chest in an inaudible yelp. “Just play along,” he whispers against the top of his head. </p><p>And that’s the last warning Beomgyu gets—before he’s dragged and thrown against the bedroom door. The loud slam that follows elicits gasps that are definitely more than one—and definitely not just from their side of the door. </p><p>He doesn’t have time to adjust, letting out an unintelligible noise of complaint at the sudden switch up. Pain blooms across his back at the unsolicited impact, and his mouth opens, profanities ready to fall off his lips in an accusative shout.</p><p>He then tries, only to discover the sound mysteriously swallowed and shoved down his own throat. It’s reduced to a powerless whimper, currently more laced with surprise than malice. It’s the second time in the span of five seconds that Soobin’s caught him by surprise. He can only adapt so much. </p><p>Beomgyu’s eyelashes profusely flutter, dumbfounded at how every sound he attempts to make is now converted into silent muffles. Both his hands are enveloped by palms much larger than his, flatly raised to the sides of his head and pressed against the door behind him.</p><p> A mysterious shadow is hovering over his body, entrapping his much smaller frame in a makeshift cage of their own hands. When the silencer pressed to his lips begins to move, that’s when it finally clicks.</p><p>Soobin just slammed him against the door, and he’s kissing him. <em> Hard.  </em></p><p>It becomes breathless from the get-go, the taller male stealing his every inhale and replacing it with his own. They set the pace with slow, deep endeavours that build up into sloppy, colliding movements way quicker than it should. The back of Beomgyu’s consciousness manages to pick up hushed giggles from the other side of the door. </p><p>(He internally rejoices. It’s working.) </p><p>The younger nudges his palms against Soobin’s, and the latter reaffirms his signal by nodding distractedly. It turns out that their suspicions are confirmed after all. Their mothers really are trying to eavesdrop on them. (Mothers really are nosey. And since both their sons are internationally acclaimed actors, here’s a business for them to stick their noses into.)</p><p>Soobin sucks on his lower lip, and Beomgyu lets out a noise that is definitely not as loud as it needs to be. He dismisses the way he can feel the former smirk, the annoying one he does only when his ego is inflated. </p><p>He’s playing directly into Soobin’s pride, yet there’s very little he can do about it without breaking the act. And he hates it. </p><p>Their stunt is effective almost instantaneously when Beomgyu can hear the sound of his own mother trying to stifle a gasp. </p><p>Having a live audience approximately one mahogany wooden door away from you isn’t something he’s accustomed to, but right now, neither of them have much of choice. (Improvise, adapt, overcome. It’s a skill they’ll both learn along the way.)</p><p>When he feels teeth digging into his skin in a rather harsh gnaw, Beomgyu’s jaw goes lax, sighing embarrassingly if not given their current circumstance. He’s aware that they need to amp up their volume to put on a convincing show, but he’s not sure how much of that he’s currently faking. Since when was Soobin such a good kisser? Is there something this man can’t do? </p><p>The latter’s tongue intrusively slithers past his parted lips, coercing his, and Beomgyu’s mind blanks. His breath hitches, a strained sound settling at the back of his throat. He melts right into the carved surface behind him when Soobin expertly navigates his cavern, and when he feels his knees go weak, that’s his first sign of defeat for the night. </p><p>But Beomgyu’s always a bit of a fighter in everything he does. It’s the fierce flamboyance he can’t seem to let go of easily. After all, they grew up as rivals. He doesn’t like to go down without a challenge, so it’s only normal that he’d try to outlaw his competition. </p><p>Even at a time like this, it doesn’t sit right with him to let Soobin win. Therefore, if they can’t quarrel, he’ll just have to settle for the next best alternative he can think of.</p><p>The following sequence plays out exactly like everything he wishes it wouldn’t: Beomgyu shoving his own tongue past the older’s lips, only for it backfire embarrassingly when Soobin snorts, grazes it with his teeth, and bites down. </p><p>The pained wail he emits from that alone is worthy of a death by humiliation. </p><p>Yet, it doesn’t stop. Even when Beomgyu rebukes by whacking Soobin in the chest, and even when Soobin has to stop himself from laughing by holding Beomgyu’s wrists above his head. Is all of this necessary to convince their mothers they’re having the night of their lives? What accolades are they receiving from putting up such an award-winning act? </p><p>It reminds him drearily of something. </p><p>Because of their respective headstrong and competitive nature, both Soobin and Beomgyu have silently engaged in this quiet mode of battle to see who’s better at everything they do. It may be childish, and under any other circumstance Beomgyu would never entertain such foolishness. Yet, with how despicably flawless Choi Soobin is, he can’t help but want to stab a steely knife in his perfect glass doll image, waiting for it to crack. Any flaw he can find is a line in his black book he’d weaponize later on. </p><p>Thus, in the past six months, they’d try to outdo each other in every little thing. Beomgyu has since lost count, but it always boils down to mundane things; who’s the better driver. Who’s the better cook. Who’s better at making coffee, and who’s better at pleasing the board of directors. </p><p>Therefore, what’s unfolding right now only makes a familiar thought flash at the back of his head. Is this another episode of their shenanigans? The excuse they need to see who’s the better kisser? </p><p>It does not make his chest swell with pride upon the realisation that he’s the one in the losing lane. </p><p>And it’s almost like Soobin knows as much. It’s silent reprimanding in the way his movements become more frantic, lips slotting vicariously against Beomgyu’s until he’s light-headed. They get wrapped up in each other’s quiet battle of determination—wanting to win even at a time like this—that the initial purpose is almost completely discarded. </p><p>In his mind, Beomgyu can conjure the two very simple reasons this boils down to—they’re either overdoing it to put up a convincing front, or they just want to outdo each other. Neither are rewarding, nor are they a worthwhile cause. </p><p>But Beomgyu just likes to annoy Soobin. He wouldn’t miss any opportunity to trade all his cards to have the last laugh. And judging by how the other’s not ceasing, neither is Soobin. </p><p>Beomgyu remotely registers the sensation of drool trailing down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, yet he doesn’t make an effort to pull away. Soobin continues to press into him, and he now understands that he’s fighting a war he can not win. </p><p>For the record, the younger gives in, begrudgingly conceding his loss with little whimpers that Soobin swallows and returns in soft sighs.</p><p>So, it goes.  </p><p>It’s in the way both of them finally pull apart, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, forehead touching, breath ragged like they just completed a cardio session. </p><p>It’s in the way Soobin tilts his head back with the tip of his nose, one hand gripping him by the waist, the other hastily loosening his tie; planting his lips on his Adam’s apple, following the path of his saliva and kissing it clean. </p><p>It’s in the way Beomgyu reacts just how he wants him to, softly hissing, now freed hands rushing to grip his shoulders for leverage. </p><p>It’s in the way Beomgyu’s eyes automatically flutter closed, no longer paying attention to the quiet <em> ooh </em> ’s and <em> oh </em>’s from the other side of the door. </p><p>That’s when his white flag is waved, a defeated hand lifting up into the air amidst a bloody battleground. </p><p>Soobin one, Beomgyu zero.</p><p>His skin begins to prickle from the heat, unsure if it’s from the close proximity and the clothes, or something less tangible. (Something to do with how Soobin feels like blazing canonfire and his lips are ammunition, mapping pathways for the war he’s seizing to wage against his skin.) </p><p>Beomgyu is normally aware that he shouldn’t be enjoying this act of pretence as much as he is. Yet, with the way his body responds to teeth sinking into his neck, abnormally fast—he knows that <em> this </em> is not normal. </p><p>The older doesn’t stop. Beomgyu wishes he would, just wants to punch him silly and tell him that it’s enough, but he doesn’t. He fails to understand why he doesn’t.</p><p>Soobin’s lips are working away at his neck like it’s serious business. Somewhere along the way, Beomgyu loses track of it all—feeling like the world is a cloud and his kisses are raindrops on his skin, forging a hurricane. His mind feels clouded, a misty haze lowering like a fog on his consciousness. He can’t find it in him to resent it, and that’s what he hates in losing. The wound on his pride, and the lack of power. </p><p>He’s already aware of the stinging pain blooming just as Soobin finally pulls away, face annoyingly smug. He doesn’t have to look in the mirror to deduce that there’s probably a hickey the size of France imprinted on his neck. </p><p>Two solid seconds pass, neither of them speaking. Neither of them move. It’s like they managed to escape the pocket of time. </p><p>Soobin’s eyes search Beomgyu’s dazed ones, pupils blown and lips gaping with every inhale and exhale. He internally amuses at how Beomgyu’s soft pants make him look like a little puppy, secretly endeared.</p><p>The room falls into complete silence, and the latter can almost hear the way their mothers are holding their breaths from the behind his back. A force seizes through his being, pulling him back to the gravity of their current situation. He felt like he just had an out of body experience. (They’re still here even after all that?) </p><p>Beomgyu does a slight cock of his head, and Soobin only raises a brow, telling him that he knows. He doesn’t trust himself enough to speak and sound convincing, so he waits for Soobin to do it. The taller, as usual, takes charge. “Babe, shouldn’t we get the corridor lights first? The maids left.” </p><p>He swallows another breath before meekly nodding, half-comprehending Soobin’s tactic. Only at times like this does he realise how much of a quick-thinker Soobin is. </p><p>It almost makes him snort at how what just happened feels like a leadership training camp; to test reflexes and their ability to perform under pressure. Combined with how out of it he is, Beomgyu’s sure that he’s definitely not the one to emerge victorious. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the L he just took. “Sure. Wanna grab wine from the kitchen?”</p><p>“Whatever suits you, baby.” Beomgyu’s definitely just asking for the sake of it, but with the way Soobin smiles in response, he’s suddenly considering bringing a bottle. </p><p>Both Soobin and Beomgyu alike are modest, considerate children. And so, they give their mothers a good amount of time to hear their conversation and scurry back to their room. No standing ovation needed, they are nice and appreciative like that. </p><p>Beomgyu has to bite back a giggle at how poorly concealed their supposedly stealthy footsteps are. The doors in this house are heavy and definitely not quiet either, judging from the way it produces a thunderous creak, followed later by a soft lock click. </p><p>None of them move until they absolutely ensure that the coast is clear. They wait for a few more moments just to be safe. Then, when the entire mansion is draped with silence—it’s sliced through with a knife that is their synchronous, boisterous laughters.   </p><p>Beomgyu laughs so hard he has to hold onto Soobin to make sure he doesn’t collapse. Tears prick his eyes until he can barely see through the blurriness, almost doubling over from the growing pain in his stomach. </p><p>The former’s chuckles accompany his, stopping midway to tell Beomgyu to turn it down before pulling him to their bed. When they collapse in tune, Beomgyu has to wipe away his tears just so he wouldn’t stain the sheets. “I feel like that was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” he manages between choked exhales, face scrunching up so hard it’s almost hurting. </p><p>Soobin’s entire visage lights up when he also laughs along, shaking his head lightly. “But it worked, so who’s the genius here?”</p><p>“Yeah, but did you really have to go that far? A hickey, really?” Beomgyu pauses just to scoff, turning on his side to regard Soobin. </p><p>His laughing face is so contrasting to his usual one that it takes the former by surprise. Beomgyu can almost recount all the details in the change. His eyes crinkle into perfect half-circles, nose wrinkling just enough and smile so wide that his dimples multiply themselves into two on each side. </p><p>He looks… <em> Endearing </em>. And it shocks Beomgyu that the day would come where he’d use such adjectives to describe the man before him. </p><p>“It’s called faking evidence. You’ve never watched true crime? Watch them crane their necks trying to catch a glimpse of it tomorrow morning.” He responds nonchalantly, laying back on his back to unbutton his blazer and loosening his tie. </p><p>It’s definitely fine for him to do so, but why does he have to look attractive while doing it as well? Is it just the post-makeout adrenaline that makes him perceive Soobin in such a way? </p><p>Beomgyu’s almost furious at the thought. Except for being super annoying, why does he not have a flaw? Screw this guy. </p><p>“Stupid, we’re meeting the client tomorrow. Do you plan to embarrass me to the rest of Europe?” He says, undoing his tie completely and unbuttoning his collar just to reach up and touch the hickey. He’s not pleasant with the way just a press against the skin makes him wince. </p><p>Choi Soobin just has to be an overachiever at everything he does. He wouldn’t even let <em> this </em>slide. Now he wants to argue with his mum, because Beomgyu’s luck is surely horrible to marry such a monster. </p><p>He turns to the male in question with a glare, yet he’s already looking at him with a smirk like he’s expecting it. That just pisses him off even more. “Fine, take your revenge next time. Just no biting, my skin scars easily.”</p><p>Beomgyu’s gaze hardens at the implication, flinging out his tie at the guy like a whip. “There’s no fucking next time. Also, I’m showering first. If I wake up with you touching a hair of me tomorrow morning, I’m killing you and burying your body in the front garden as fertiliser.”</p><p>He then scurries off the bed and stomps his way to the bathroom, Soobin’s mocking laughter following him like a haunting ghost. </p><p>It’s only when he closes the bathroom door and stands hunched over the sink, eye to eye with the mirror that he realises he’s beet red. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>His skin flushes deeper in shame, finally able to take a look at himself and seeing the mess Soobin managed to reduce him into. </p><p>It plays out like this: his hair’s all fluffed up, messy strands sticking to his forehead. His eyes are wide and blown out, pupils dazed and enlarged like he’s under some form of influence. Even with the amount of wine he had, he’s pretty sure he’s perfectly sober. How can a guy born into the alcohol industry not hold his liquor? Therefore, it must be something else. </p><p>Suddenly, Beomgyu wants to blame it on the alcohol. He’d rather be a lightweight. It’d be less humiliating. </p><p>His lips are embarrassingly swollen, slick and blood red with remnants of saliva still hanging by the corners, which he wiped immediately. His cheeks are tinted crimson, all the way to the tip of his ears and down his neck. </p><p>And God, his neck. </p><p>When he hypothesised that the hickey would be the size of France, he’s merely saying that for exaggerating purposes. But now that he’s actually able to see it, he doesn’t find the joke to be as funny. </p><p>It’s red and purple all the way to the side of his neck, scattered like a rose petal across his otherwise pale flesh. </p><p>It stands out so strikingly in contrast that Beomgyu has to take in a deep breath upon absorbing the image—all shades of red known to man taking turns displaying themselves on the expanse of his skin. It’s littered like a splotch of ink on a blank canvas, and Beomgyu has to bite his lips to refrain from a foul cry. What the fuck. </p><p>Was he so strung up that he wasn’t aware of how much liberty he took with this? Even Taehyun never went this far. </p><p>He shakily inhales as he tilts his head to the side, trembling fingers reaching up to the place he’s been marked. A small jolt escapes him when he presses a tad too hard on the spot below his jaw. This is definitely enough to last for the remaining two weeks they have on this damned island. </p><p>He lets out a groan once he realises that he has to meet the executives of Corsica’s biggest wine manufacturing corporation tomorrow like <em> this </em>. What a fucking grievance that it’s only about eight hours from now. </p><p>Embarrassment and irritation flares up in his chest as he quickly undresses himself to set foot into the shower.  </p><p>Soobin better pray that there’s no reprisal of tonight’s occurrence, because God forbid if Beomgyu is granted another chance. He is definitely taking his revenge. </p><p>With both hands covering the entirety of his face, he stands under the unrelenting splash of the shower, not even bothering to moderate the heat. Droplets of water splay against his skin like sprinkles of ice, which Beomgyu oddly welcomes. </p><p>He stands and, out of habit, tries to analyse the sequence of what just happened, addressing his gains and losses. A corporate habit that certainly dies hard. </p><p>One by one, he attempts to undo the ball of tangled strings sitting in his chest. One by one, he tugs, unveiling the cluster, naming every emotion he feels. Embarrassment. Anger. Frustration. Defeat. All losses and no gain. </p><p>He heaves out a heavy exhale, pushing his now wet hair back and rubbing his face. Inside the constraint of his ribcage, his heart violently thrums. Despite the shuddering chill from the cold water, his face still feels hot. </p><p>It’s normal for a person’s heartbeat to accelerate upon feeling any of the above. You get flustered when you’re humiliated. You get flustered when you’re mad. </p><p>But why does he get a feeling there’s something more? </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[incoherent screaming over soogyu making out] sorry for getting carried away... i will now flee </p><p>next chapter on monday! :D leave ur thoughts in the comments below or find me in any of these links: </p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/soobivert">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/soobivert">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. this is why we can't have nice things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>strap in for a long one my dear soogyuists.... i just doubled the word count with this chapter alone. ashamed noises.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Beomgyu experiences something akin to what it’d be like to walk around with horns growing out of your head. </p><p>He wakes up with an incredulous look from Soobin next to him, who muffles his laugh with a stifled <em> ‘nothing!’ </em>when he prompts. </p><p>He enters the dining room and plops down, barely warming up his seat for breakfast when a train of cynical giggles interrupts his morning thoughts. He doesn’t need his mothers to verbalise their reasons to understand why they’re laughing. Synchronously, all three pairs of eyes travel to the seemingly unbothered person at the centre of the room. </p><p>The culprit sits leisurely at the head of the table, innocently chewing on a piece of sausage with clear, wide eyes like he has no idea what’s going on. Beomgyu attempts to relay an ‘<em> I’ll kill you’ </em> with the dead look in his eyes, but Soobin just blinks at him, replying with a <em> ‘you reap what you sow’ </em>into their telepathic communication array. What a nuisance. </p><p>The biggest L didn’t come until later that morning. The humiliation he has to suffer when he meets their client’s gaze is immeasurable. The awkward greeting as Beomgyu tries to angle his neck in a way to make his hickey appear less obvious when conversing, and the <em> ‘I see that you like France’ </em>being thrown his way with meaningful eyes that makes him recoil. </p><p>The sick bastard of a husband stands next to him the entire time, surfing the waves of Beomgyu’s humiliation with amused chuckles and snarky smiles. If not given the circumstance, he would not miss the opportunity to catch him outside and brawl. </p><p>Alas, they’re here not as a newly wedded couple on a loosely defined honeymoon; but also as representatives of Choi Group and Choi Industry, testing their newest addition to the family collection—a rare, luxurious wine developed from the exotic local <em> Sciacarello </em>grapes unique to the Corsican vineyards. </p><p>Corsica is an island that is infamous for its unique cultural influence—bearing dynamic traits of both France and Italy, the world’s top wine making countries, its local winery is gaining a reputation that attracts the eyes of Korea among other nations. If the contract goes well, Choi Industries is to manufacture a brand new wine blend extracted from local Corsican grapes, a treasure that is yet to be discovered by the global liquor market. <em> Sciacarello, Niellucio </em> and <em> Vermintino </em>shall make up the Corsican grapes supply, which will be exclusive to Choi Group, whom will purchase the distribution rights and trademark the formula. </p><p>Therefore, if all goes well, Beomgyu and Soobin are expected to get the first sample bottle by the end of today, and wrap up the contract to initiate production by the end of their two week trip. The launch of this wine is expected to drive their annual sales up by at least 25%, disregarding sudden recessions or economic turnovers. Needless to say, this trip is important, and both Soobin and Beomgyu are expected to perform their duties well. </p><p>It’s good for them that neither are the type to slack off, both known for being more in love with their job than they are with anything else. Once they start bypassing small talks and entering the factory, neither Soobin nor Beomgyu would find the time to make faces at each other or offer teasing remarks. </p><p>It’s one of the only things Beomgyu learns of Soobin that he actually likes. He doesn’t wish for that list to expand. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“So? How is it?” Soobin asks as he approaches the kitchen island, putting down the tablet in his hand, regarding a contemplative Beomgyu hunched over it. </p><p>The male in question makes a small, linear sound at the base of his throat, lips twisting in thought. He stares at the wine glass he has in hand, habitually twirling and watching the content dance in a lasso. “Different. Oddly strong, sweeter and less acidic than the Italian grapes,” he says, settling the glass down on the counter before raising a brow. It’s something a little odder than the taste he’s used to, but he doesn’t hate it. He welcomes the stronger aroma. “But still super intense and rich. And, weirdly enough, a little bit spicy.”</p><p>This piques the interest of a patiently awaiting Soobin. “Spicy? Is that good or bad?” His brows furrow, grabbing the glass previously in Beomgyu’s hold to take a sip. This does not fly well with its original owner. “Good, maybe. Hey! Pour your own glass, jackass.”</p><p>He reaches for the objection of question, only for Soobin to expertly tilt his body away like a rehearsed sequence. He ignores him and continues to empty the glass, gulping down the rest of the sample in one breath. When he finishes, he turns to stare at a pouty Beomgyu with a tilt of his head. </p><p>“May I remind you, dear Beomgyu, that we are married,” he speaks up after swallowing, still holding the glass out of the younger’s reach like he enjoys watching him agonise over minor inconveniences. Their difference in height comes handy only at moments like this. “And exchanged vows as well as salivas.”</p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t even bother to respond verbally, he just gags. “You are so gross,” he grunts, giving up trying to fetch his glass, resignedly pouring himself another one and pulling away in defence. For safety measures, just in case a wild Soobin decides to snatch his drink once again. “Did you taste the spiciness I mentioned?”</p><p>Soobin hums, does a slow nod, and picks the bottle up to inspect the handwritten label written on it. It’s the very first sample from the factory, so it’s only reasonable that the packaging looks a bit rough, given that they’re not yet granted the license to initiate development. Beomgyu was the one who wrote the label himself, during the meeting when briefed with the ingredients. It’s awfully typical of him to not trust any employee who might get the percentage wrong and jeopardise their entire research process. </p><p>“It’s the <em> Sciacarello</em>,” Soobin speaks up, pointing to the label and letting Beomgyu inspect. “It’s the most expensive grape out of the three we picked. 13.45%. A tinge spicy from the way it’s dried and the soil conditions, but also sweet. Surprisingly doesn’t smell as strong as it tastes,” he continues on with his Sherlockian analysis, and Beomgyu only nods, attentively listening while taking another sip. He doesn’t care about the particular details down to the second number after the decimal of its composition, but can definitely see what Soobin’s talking about. </p><p>He leaves the rationale to Soobin, who continues to explain it to him like a professor in chemistry class. Only during times like this does he realise how well-versed the guy is about his job. When it comes to wine, Soobin is akin to a walking encyclopedia, a true professional fitting for the role of the chairman of Choi Group. </p><p>“It smells almost like strawberry. Interesting aroma, would be a good marketable product feature.” And he carries on for a bit, flexing his extensive knowledge on the topic like he’s trying to impress a girl he’s picking up. Regarding current circumstances, and the fact that Beomgyu’s got a Cartier diamond sitting on his ring finger, he doesn’t feel like the appropriate recipient of the courtship. </p><p>He knows that Soobin isn’t doing it on purpose—that he’s just geeking out like a little wine nerd, but it’s somehow comical. He just continues to sip, humming like he’s listening, not bothering to offer incentive for Soobin’s one-sided conversation. </p><p>Besides, it’s not like Beomgyu would admit it, but seeing Soobin exceed his quota of ten words per sentence is actually a rarity. The way his eyes light up when he continues to explain the details of the ingredients is enthralling, and it makes Beomgyu want to tell him <em> ‘don’t stop, keep talking, I’m listening. You look cute when you’re passionate’ </em>. He almost looks like he’s reverting back to a child boasting his shiny new toys, and something about it makes him feel oddly endeared. </p><p>He tries to hide the ghost of a smile behind the wine glass by pretending to drink. Soobin doesn’t notice, continues to talk about grapes that Beomgyu can’t pronounce off the top of his head. He couldn’t care less about the <em> Sciacarello </em>. </p><p>Subconsciously, his gaze shifts, landing on the pouty way Soobin’s lips curl up whenever he talks. It looks pouty and soft, and Beomgyu suddenly remembers how he can attest to the second fact. They are indeed as soft as they look. </p><p>He’s reminded of the same pair of lips smothered all over his, and a mildly unpleasant shiver runs through his spine. They’re in the middle of a work discussion. Why did he have to think about that now, out of all times? Can’t the memory just enclose itself into a box and stay locked away in the deepest crevice of his brain? </p><p>He doesn’t realise that Soobin has been talking to him instead of talking <em> at </em>him, until the second call of his name falls past said lips. He is bestowed upon the visual of how Soobin’s mouth curls around the shape of his name, jutting out with the last syllable. He didn’t mean to stare, but it’s just so easily entertaining how pouty Soobin gets when he talks. Why did it take him so long to realise that? The image of a scary, stoic Soobin is traded out and replaced with a soft, pouty Soobin in his brain. He’ll never find this man intimidating again. </p><p>“Why are you looking at me like that?” Soobin waves a hand across his face, and Beomgyu immediately snaps out of it. “Like what?” He snaps back, putting his wine glass down with a little too much force it slightly startles himself. <em> How embarrassing. </em> He blames this on the lack of sleep and the overextension of daydreaming. His life wouldn’t be like this if last night didn’t happen. Every problem in his life for the past six months can all be traced back to Choi Soobin. </p><p>“Staring at me like I’m a hot stranger you met at a club, when I’m the first face you see every morning for the past six months,” Soobin illustrates his point so cockily well, smirking with an annoying raised brow that makes heat flare across Beomgyu’s chest. Heat for what reason? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think about it. “Are you falling in love with me or something?”</p><p>Beomgyu lets out a hiss like the sentence brought him physical pain, reaches up to whack the taller square in the chest. The way Soobin doesn’t even budge, only laughs at him before entrapping his wrist in one swift grab makes his blood pressure skyrocket. One year into this marriage and he will be sporting grey hairs at the prime age of 25. </p><p>He’s quick on his wit, already got a spiteful insult laid on his tongue—when he catches a vague silhouette of a familiar form brisking past the kitchen area. It’s only for a second, and it goes by so fast he could have mistaken it for a maid. </p><p>But the blob of curly brown locks can be mistaken for no one other than the late Choi Group’s chairwoman, Mrs. Choi. He could recognise her from even a mile away. </p><p>Now that his mother-in-law is now in eavesdropping range, Beomgyu is not about to risk tarnishing his angelic son-in-law image by spewing avid profanities to her son. </p><p>So his face morphs from a scowl to a sickenly sweet smile, eyes crinkling from the excessive force of his contorting face muscles. Soobin remains quiet, regarding his shift in demeanour, at first with wandering eyes and a questioning gaze. He recognises the look of utter bewilderment when Beomgyu brings a hand up his chest, gently stroking. </p><p>“Silly. I always fall in love with you. All over again, all the time.” But he’s smart enough not to question it, and that’s what Beomgyu likes about him. </p><p>It’s like something out of a Nicholas Sparks adaptation, how melodiously attuned their bodies are to each other at a time like this—Beomgyu’s hands wrapping around Soobin’s neck the same time the male’s circle around his waist. They smile at one another, gazes locked deep into each other’s eyes, searching, roaming. From a distance, a couple couldn’t look more in love. </p><p>But from the lack of distance between them as Soobin presses him up against the kitchen island, all they are focusing on is trying their hardest not to laugh. Rather verbal, they do it with their eyes through matching ridiculed gazes. Beomgyu feels his cheeks balling up from trying not to break into a riotous howl. Soobin has to squeeze his waist and bite his lips, muffling the silent chuckle only Beomgyu can hear. </p><p>From the view of his front-row seat, Beomgyu can see his dimples adorn his cheeks, the crevice growing deeper the harder he suppresses his laughter. It’s an adorable sight up close, and Beomgyu’s eyes crinkle from a smile that is sans mockery for the first time. </p><p>“Love you too, but aren’t we supposed to discuss work?” says Soobin, already closing in and pressing his forehead against Beomgyu’s. He feels the way his little breaths cut themselves short, transmitting strings of chuckles he does little to conceal. Now the dude is just straight up laughing in his face. </p><p>“Can’t work wait?” Says Beomgyu, not failing to miss a beat before he makes his move from his side of the battlefield. The brunet leans in, nuzzling the tip of his nose against Soobin’s, lips agape. Only now does he realise that the older’s has a little dent that perfectly slots against his. Endearing little details. “You look good, it’s hard to focus when I’m just thinking of ways to kiss you.”</p><p>They’re both aware of the unnaturally loud volumes of their speech, the trivia of it all to flirt so vicariously in the kitchen like they’re in a movie scene. They can only hope that if Soobin’s mother is watching, she’s enjoying every piece of it. “We’re supposed to taste the wine,” Soobin refutes, clearly just wanting Beomgyu to have a hard time. The irony is in the way he himself contradicts his speech, freeing a hand to push the wine glasses aside so he can lift Beomgyu up—manhandles him, props him on top of the obsidian expanse of the countertop. </p><p>Beomgyu feels like a child with how easily Soobin holds his weight, lifting him up and setting him down with barely a sign of struggle. Maybe there’s a reason why he fills his suit so nicely. “I <em> am </em>trying to taste the wine,” he smoothly responds, eyes lowering to Soobin’s lips, falling upon them, gaze transfixed, watching them part in a breathless chuckle. It seems like Soobin received the memo. A medium of communication without words. </p><p>Soobin has to give it to him for that, because he blinks rapidly the way he does when he’s caught off guard. There’s joy in the tiny victories you gain throughout the mundane journeys of life. Winning your spouse over with low-level pick-up lines is one of them. </p><p>Pride swells up in his chest when Soobin lets out a tiny laugh, nudges his knees apart, slides into the tiny space between his thighs and presses up against him—chest to chest, hands to waist, lips to lips. Beomgyu welcomes it with triumph, diligently wraps his ankles around the back of his knees, fingers carding through his hair, messing up the gel. It starts out slow, and it starts out good. It stays good until it doesn’t, until their competitive instincts kick in like an adrenaline rush. It’s mean and fast and sloppy and breathtaking; bad in the way they would fight tooth and nail even with lips locked, teeth to teeth, tongue to tongue, Soobin squeezing the base of his thigh in a way that isn’t supposed to be fond nor friendly, but it makes Beomgyu giggle all the same. </p><p>It’s sweet and nice then fervent and blazing, like an afternoon breeze on a scorching summer day. It’s strong and pungent, like the aroma of wine he can taste on Soobin’s lips. It’s bitter and spicy, like the aftertaste of <em> Sciacarello </em>that makes his head light. </p><p>But he isn’t here to sit on a countertop in a kitchen to kiss the day away with Choi Soobin. He is here to settle a score. </p><p>Beomgyu digs the base of his ankles into Soobin’s leg in a menacing jab, fingernails grazing through his scalp like nails on a chalkboard, tugging hard, lips bad against his. When Soobin lets out a wince, he takes the chance to seize, biting down on his lower pair like he intends to draw blood. It’s miserly, the way he refuses to let go even when Soobin tries to pull away, entrapping his lower lip between his teeth and pulling him back in with the hand in his hair, punctuated with a sick chuckle. </p><p>Soobin’s grip on his waist grows bruising, and he knows it will hurt, but he figures it’s better to shoulder a blow on his person than a blow on his pride. He kicks the back of Soobin’s knees with his heel again, and Soobin responds by pinching the base of his thigh. The winces they both let out are synchronous, and under any other circumstances, he’d double over from laughter at the parody of the situation. It’s give and take. You win some, you lose some. </p><p>Their crusade of trying to out-mouth each other only cuts itself short when the sign of another presence is made known, via the form of an awkward throat clear and a tap against the island countertop. </p><p>Beomgyu should be relieved that their combat is cut to a halt, but he pulls away with a glowering look in his eyes, so into character that even the act of being interrupted makes him grimace. Where is his Oscar? </p><p>It’s Soobin that pulls away first, jumping an ocean away from Beomgyu when they realise who the intruder is. “Mother,” the older voices, retreating and glueing himself to the fridge behind him, as if flustered for being caught in the act. He delivers the part so well that Beomgyu almost buys it if he doesn’t know better. </p><p>Now it’s just him under the wide-eyed scrutiny of his mother-in-law, both their locked gazes blank and surprised. He has to scurry off the countertop, collecting himself and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Mother.” He echoes, gaze lowered, no soul in his words. He doesn’t have to act for this one, because being walked in on, no matter genuine or pretenced, is still to some degree humiliating. </p><p>“Oh, do not mind me. I hate to interrupt, but I needed to fetch a glass of water.” She flashes them a wry smile, moving in, and Soobin immediately moves away from the fridge like being in a close perimeter of his mother would put him in a chokehold. </p><p>She passes by Beomgyu, who stands rooted against the counter with hands held in military position behind his back, “you two are lovely. Me and his father were once like that. The joy of newlyweds, it makes you forget other things in the world, doesn’t it?” </p><p>The smile on her face turns meaningful when she gives him a solemn pat on the shoulder. His expression immediately turns sour at the implication, but he hides it behind a strained smile. “I apologise, mother. We’re so used to the liberty of being in our own home that it’s still—”</p><p>“Apologise for what, my darling? This trip is yours to savour.” She says, waving a hand after successfully pouring herself a glass. “Enjoy it,” the look in her eyes turns knowing and fond, like she knows more than he lets on. It reads as her referencing last night’s occurrence, no matter how Beomgyu tries to see it. He wants to die on the spot. “You’re only young and in love once.”</p><p>Beomgyu legitimately does not know what to say in response. He does one of those stiff nods when you obviously want to draw the curtains on a conversation, eyes glancing up desperately to search for his partner in crime. He refuses to be chastised alone. </p><p>Soobin’s spotted standing on the side, a hand sourly rubbing his bottom lip. He looks sullen, almost pained, gaze hardening once it meets Beomgyu’s. It’s a funny sight. He almost looks like he’s sulking. The younger purses his lips, tries his best not to break his facade, and just makes a face, remaining quiet until they both excuse themselves and leave the kitchen area. </p><p>“That hurt,” Soobin wastes no time to start complaining as soon as they’re out of earshot. They’re headed back to the bedroom, and Beomgyu responds with nothing short of a triumphant smirk. “You dare complain?” He shoots him a look, craning his neck and pulling at the collar of his shirt. </p><p>And there it is, the star of the hour. The hickey sits, stinging on his skin and prickling Soobin’s eyes as the taller immediately shuts up when he takes a look. “Now we’re even.” He lifts a pointed index and pokes at Soobin’s forearm. The older says nothing to refute, just sighs softly, repenting for his sins. </p><p>It’s when he closes the door behind his back does he remember a fleeting thought. “An interesting discovery of note,” he begins, tapping the aforementioned index against his pouting lips. Soobin is halfway to their balcony door when he turns to regard him with mildly furrowed brows. “What?”</p><p>“The tinge of spiciness isn’t lasting,” the younger undoes the button of his blazer, loosening his cuffs, and heads into the closet. Then, he hollers, “It fades in the aftertaste. The wine was only sweet on your lips.”</p><p>Soobin almost trips, eyes the size of saucers, in disbelief at Beomgyu’s casual audacity. How can he mention such trivial things so leisurely? </p><p>But upon further consideration, he stands and ponders his point, hand reaching up to caress his lips yet again. He attempts to recall the taste, and his mind goes fuzzy at the bombardment of varying cases of the term, swinging at him in full force—what taste is he supposed to recall? The taste of the wine, or the taste of Beomgyu’s lips? </p><p>Frankly enough, the gap of distinctiveness is almost embarrassing to admit aloud. He tasted the wine for ten minutes, and kissed Beomgyu for two. Then why does he only remember the latter? </p><p>Soobin realises a tad later with contempt when he’s out at the balcony, phone in hand. He lost this round. </p><p>
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</p><p>Beomgyu walks out of the shower to his boyfriend and his spouse on a FaceTime call. </p><p>He thought he was hallucinating it at first, even having to double check to make sure Taehyun didn’t hijack the stereo system of the mansion. There’s no speaker in the bathroom, his phone’s turned off, and as much as he wishes, Taehyun didn’t seem to magically materialise in the middle of their bedroom in person. So, where could his voice possibly come from? </p><p>It almost slips his mind that Soobin and Taehyun are also considered friends. It’s not like he’s trying to imply that he’s the only person allowed to be in Taehyun’s life—he’s not that type of obsessive boyfriend. It’s simply that Taehyun doesn’t talk to just anyone. Doesn’t open up to just anyone. Doesn’t call <em> just </em>anyone, thus it’s not his fault to ponder why.  He never really wraps his head around Taehyun saving a phone number that isn’t his in his contacts. </p><p>At first notice, the noise is muted and distanced—Beomgyu has to look around for a bit to identify the source. Not the bed. Not the closet. Then, where?</p><p>He turns a bit more, then sees the sliding door of the balcony pushed aside; a man hunched over the railing, back turned to him. A man he recognises, talking to a voice he recognises even in the most crowded of places. </p><p>“What’s the party?” He approaches Soobin, a small towel still draped over his damp hair while trying to push his face into the screen of the guy’s phone, “am I not invited?”</p><p>The phone on the other side shifts wildly, motion lagging the screen and making it blur. When it stills again, Taehyun’s blond hair predominantly occupies the screen, phone angled low beneath his nose. Even at such an unflattering angle, his nose bridge still looks impeccable. Is this a royal thing? He wonders. “Taehyun-ah!” He calls, already beaming, waiting for the man on the other line to respond. </p><p>His wide eyes light up when they meet Beomgyu’s, and when the most familiar face known to him brightens in a smile, Beomgyu feels the lightest he’s ever had in days. “Hyung.”</p><p>“Hello to my favourite person.” He flashes him a wide grin, peeking like a hawk over Soobin’s shoulders and giving his boyfriend an enthusiastic wave. Taehyun’s eyes crinkle, pulling the phone further away and revealing the lower half of his face, which is marred with a big smile. The dimple he has can be seen even through the low quality screen, and he waves back. </p><p>“What are you guys up to?” Beomgyu thinks that it’s a bit odd for Taehyun and Soobin to be on FaceTime, given that they barely exchange words outside of his presence. He even remembers his boyfriend saying something about disliking Soobin’s pretentious nature a while back when he was made known of Beomgyu’s plan. He also remembers agreeing. </p><p>He’s the only person they both have in common; their human link. So why would they be on a video call? What is there to discuss, unless it pertains to him? </p><p>But then he sees a pink blob of hair inserts itself into the camera, and minutes later, a caramel brown head occupying Taehyun’s right. All of his questions moments before are now miraculously answered. </p><p>“Beomgyu-yah!” The boisterously loud call reaches his ears before he can properly view the source of holler, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess. Everyone in Korea can identify this voice. “Yeonjun hyung?!”</p><p>The one that responds to his call, however, is the caramel haired male, smiling ear to ear and now taking hold of the phone. “Beomgyu hyung! Look who’s here!” Hueningkai takes the liberty to stand up and stretch his arms, pushing the phone camera back to extend the view. Now, every face he ever wanted to see are perfectly captured on the screen. </p><p>Taehyun only gives a small smile while Yeonjun next to him has one hand slung around his shoulder, the other raising in a big peace sign. “Hueningkai invited us over for dinner!” He says, too loud for it to be necessary, like he just enjoys spreading the fun he’s having. A couple oceans away on a coastal island, Soobin and Beomgyu can only smile solemnly. How unfortunate that they’re not in on the fun. </p><p>“Oh, so you only decide to get together when I’m gone, huh?” Beomgyu starts, dropping the towel from his head and letting it drape around his neck. He rests his chin on Soobin’s shoulder and does a petulant pout, staring longingly at a specific wide-eyed, blond haired male sandwiched between the two extroverts on the couch. “What were you guys talking about? And why did you call this jerk instead of me?”</p><p>He looks so tiny in comparison to his taller counterparts, and the picture it paints just makes him all the more endearing. Beomgyu would trade anything to reach through the screen and give him the fattest kiss on the forehead. He wants to ignore the three others around them, just gaze fondly into Taehyun’s eyes without a care in the world, and tell him he misses him. He wants to watch the way the younger’s face would relax in a happy sigh, smiling affectionately, then saying he misses him more in that cute, loving tone of his. </p><p>Alas, there are three other people around them (all of which he’d consider his only friend group, no matter how trivial that sounds in regards to the circumstance that brought them together in the first place). So he remembers human decency. </p><p>“Idiot, it’s because you were in the shower. Kai called you first, then he called me.” Soobin responds, matter-of-fact, not even budging at the way Beomgyu’s head slithers through the slot of his shoulder. “They miss us, so they got together to bond over that, according to Huening.”</p><p>Beomgyu only lets out a little snort, feeling his eyes crinkle from the smile. It is so like Hueningkai to say something like this. “What’s funny? Me missing my boyfriend who’s now a continent away from me is funny to you, Gyu-yah?” Yeonjun, being the melodrama he is, stands up from the couch and tries to get closer to the phone to prove his point. There’s a little bit of delay as Hueningkai and Yeonjun engage in what he can only imagine as the battle of whose arms are the longest, so they can be the one in charge of handling the call. </p><p>“Anyway, you wouldn’t believe it, but I’m not the whiniest one out of the three.” After a while, Yeonjun seems to emerge victorious, nose buried into the camera lens, sharp eyes disappearing into tiny crescents as he giggles with evil intent. Even then, the sound is oddly melodious, making him feel… easy. There’s something about the older that’s just so comforting. Beomgyu can’t explain it, but he’s the type of stranger you’d let sit next to you on a cramped bus. “And believe me, it isn’t Hueningkai.”</p><p>There’s a series of muffled snickers, one from the addressed male and the other from Yeonjun himself, followed by a meek yet distressed <em> ‘hyung, stop embarrassing me’ </em>and a groan. It’s chaotic to the ears, and the way the camera violently shakes only indicates Beomgyu as such, but he smiles fondly nonetheless. Beomgyu knows exactly who it is, and he’s suddenly filled with warmth at the thought of a whiny Taehyun complaining about his absence. Has he been this adorable all along, or was Beomgyu just too bad of a boyfriend to notice? </p><p>“No! It’s true, he wouldn’t shut up about how it’s been the longest two days of his life ever since you left,” adds Hueningkai, who somehow magically regains control of the phone again as he sinks back into the couch and presses the screen all up into Taehyun’s face. Yeonjun’s loud voice resounds in a hysterical laughter in the background, with soft coos in between. </p><p>Meanwhile, the man of the hour just sits there, attention of all four pairs of eyes trained on him, yet deadpanning the camera with an impassive stare. Anyone that isn’t Beomgyu wouldn’t be able to tell this apart from his usual indifferent expression; but it rings clear as day to him that right now, Kang Taehyun is flustered. </p><p>Beomgyu silently <em> aww </em>’s, while next to him Soobin lets out a small chuckle, amused. “Your Highness, this lowly commoner misses you too,” he catches Taehyun’s embarrassed eyes and blows him a little kiss, which only raises the prince’s shy meter by tenfold. “And you two, pipe down. Is this any way to treat our prince?”</p><p>The royalty lets out the most distraught “<em> hyung, </em>” he’s ever heard him make, nose scrunching up adorably before turning to bury his face into Yeonjun’s shoulder. The pink haired male just coos in adoration and ruffles his hair, and something about the domestic sight tugs at Beomgyu’s heart. They look like great friends. He couldn’t be any happier. “Stop it, Gyu. You’re making him shy. He’s gonna curl into himself like a furball.” Yeonjun speaks with a tone that sounds like half-mockery, half-genuinity. It’s hard to tell whether or not he’s just picking on Taehyun or if he’s truly endeared by him. Maybe it’s a combination of both.</p><p>Not long later, Hueningkai peeks back into the screen, with his cute nose and cute doe eyes taking up the corner of the screen, “how’s work, hyungs? Everything going okay?”</p><p>“Everything’s going as planned,” it’s almost like Soobin was waiting for someone to ask, because he responds instantaneously. “No hiccups thus far. If this keeps up, we’ll be able to go back home on schedule.”</p><p>“That’s still two weeks away,” Yeonjun quickly interjects, face crestfallen as he dramatically falls back into the cushion of the couch. Beomgyu watches through their image on the screen as Soobin smiles— and it’s those soft and affectionate ones filled with love that you save for a special, particular person. He recognises it, because he knows he looks at Taehyun the same way. “It’ll come and go, hyung. Promise.”</p><p>Beomgyu also notices the way the mention of this topic makes Taehyun’s expression dim, albeit just in the slightest. No one else seems to recognise it, the blond blinking rapidly and looking away. But then again, no one’s known Kang Taehyun the way he does. </p><p>Taehyun isn’t the vocal type like the pink haired male next to him, but he doesn’t need to verbalise it for Beomgyu to understand. </p><p>So he lightens up, trying to lift the mood by aiding Soobin’s reassurance with another one of his own, “he’s right. Before you know it, I’ll be back in town and back on my bullshit. It’ll come and go. Make sure to invite us for dinner too, okay Kai-yah?” </p><p>“Of course! You also need to let us be the first ones to taste the new wine!” Hueningkai responds without missing a beat, grin so bright it almost blinds the duo recipient. </p><p>“Promise,” Beomgyu says, even lifting a pinky finger to stress his point. Five grown men in their mid-twenties making a pinky promise over a FaceTime call, and no one thinks to call him out on his bullshit. He loves his friends. “See you guys in two weeks.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Famous last words. (It did not, in fact, come and go.)</p><p>Beomgyu wakes up the next morning to news he never thought he’d live long enough to hear. </p><p>“What do you mean, we’re on lockdown?” He groggily asks, sleep still in his eyes as he takes his cup of americano from the coffee machine (he likes that this mansion at least caters to his caffeine addiction) and heads to the living room. </p><p>Soobin sits glumly on the sofa, leg crossed and reading glasses perched on his nose. He stares at the screen of his tablet like he intends to bear holes through the screen, eyebrows tied into a cherry knot. “There’s a deadly virus that’s been spreading since last month, but the number of cases skyrocketed just a few days ago.” He tilts the device on his lap, showing the male that just plopped down right next to him. What appears to be a CNN news article shows up, blaring red headlines flitting past, underlined and in bold, <em> ‘New coronavirus causes alarming casualties, World Health Organization declares a state of global emergency and an upcoming pandemic’ </em>. </p><p>“Is this something like the Spanish flu?” asks Beomgyu, brow arched, scrolling through the article and skimming for statistics. Next to him, Soobin pushes up his glasses and points, “Not exactly, but it’s no less of a threat. Every country is going on lockdown, which means flights and all forms of travels are put on hold. All flights in Korea are cancelled for the next month. Here,” the older pulls up another tab, swiping up a Naver article that basically proves what he just said. </p><p>Beomgyu goes silent, feeling his heart drop in his chest. “Departures and arrivals. All the major airports in France are also closed, I made some calls when you were still asleep. Even Maxence couldn’t pull us any strings.”</p><p>For a moment, he just sits there, unmoving, expression stale. Maybe if he doesn’t move, then he’ll blend into the couch and become invisible. And then when he moves again, he’ll be in the comfort of their bed, and he’ll realise that he hasn’t woken up at all. </p><p>He blinks. Once, twice. Slowly. At the tablet screen, then at the coffee in his hand. Then, at Soobin, who just stares at him with a passive look. </p><p>This has to be a fever dream. There is no way this is real. </p><p>Beomgyu wants to stop his brain from thinking. He doesn’t want to connect the dots and realise things he’d rather be ignorant to. He wants to close his eyes, fall back into the sofa, and curl into a ball until he shrinks into the gap between the velvet cushions. </p><p>But the devil has eyes and it comes forth even when unbeckoned, thus as it sits itself disguised next to him, bearer of all bad news in his life, horns on his head and red in his eyes. Soobin blinks at him as he says, “This means we’re gonna be stuck here indefinitely, until further notice.”</p><p>It feels like a pebble has been thrown at his rose tinted glasses, drawing an inhale so sharp his lungs constrict. </p><p>Reality, as Beomgyu knows it, shatters before his eyes.</p><p>So he does what he believes is the next right thing. He puts his cup on the coffee table, turns to face Soobin, then whines. </p><p>Beomgyu kicks the carpet, stares up at him with fury, balled fists hitting nothing in particular. “Fuck, we’re gonna be here for more than two weeks? What do you mean indefinitely? Months? Hell, <em> years </em> ? Are you meaning to tell me that I’m gonna have to sleep in one bed with you, and kiss you good morning and good night, pretending to look at you like you hung all the stars in the sky for an <em> indefinite </em>amount of time?! What if we have to be here for years and I end up developing high blood pressure? I’d rather go out there and get infected, it’s better tha—”</p><p>His sentences were interrupted with a cushion thrown to his face. “Stop being dramatic. Being stuck with me isn’t the end of the world. For god’s sake, this is a <em> global </em>state of emergency.”</p><p>Pushing the cushion out of his face, he is quick to retort, throwing it back at Soobin, “It <em> feels </em> like the end of the world to me! I won’t be able to see Taehyun for an <em> indefinite </em>amount of time! I’d rather die,” It feels even more surreal now that he voices it aloud, and the fact hits him like a thousand bricks, making his body slump with a defeated sigh. </p><p>He’s been holding onto the fact that it’ll only be two weeks of pretending, and that they’d be on business errands most of the time, with both their mothers on their own agenda and out of their hair. But with a dangerous virus spreading, is it even safe to meet other people anymore? Is it even safe to go to the business meetings? Is it safe for their mothers to resume with their travel plans? </p><p>“What about our schedules? All the business meetings and factory visits?” He sits up again, posture military, “Can we still go out?”</p><p>From the way Soobin sighs, rubbing the space between his brows, he’s already not looking forward to the answer. He wishes he didn’t ask. “No, it’s all been moved to online meetings. The samples will be delivered to us, and we send it back with feedback to the R&amp;D team in the lab.” </p><p>He leans forward, picks his own cup of coffee from the table, then takes a sip, “And all forms of social gatherings are prohibited. Which means facilities and staff are going to be greatly limited. Which means the blend might take a longer time to conceive that we’d planned—perhaps double the delay of the original time frame.” </p><p>He locks the screen of his tablet and leans back, eyes peering up to the ceiling. He looks collected, but Beomgyu knows that Soobin is probably more stressed out about this situation than he is. “And no, we can’t go out. Mothers can’t go on their trip either. We’re all stuck in this house.”</p><p>Beomgyu clicks his tongue, shoves a frustrated hand through his hair, and also leans his head all the way against the backrest. Now they’re both staring at the ceiling empty-eyed, looking like two protagonists in a film when they’ve hit rock bottom. It’s not so much an exaggeration, given that internally this is exactly how Beomgyu feels. </p><p>The trip just took the wildest, most unexpected turn, and now their situation just shifted from a tethering yellow light to a blaring red. </p><p>“We’re fucked,” whispered Beomgyu, eyes closing and lips pursed into a straight line. Soobin doesn’t respond, but he can tell they’re on the exact same page, having the exact same thoughts. </p><p>This is the worst case scenario. And none of them prepared for it. </p><p>
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</p><p>Now that it all just went south and there’s no longer the ‘trip’ aspect in the picture, all four of the mansion inhabitants gather by the poolside of the backyard. </p><p>“As long as it’s only short-term, I don’t see why it’d be such a bad thing,” Beomgyu’s mother speaks up from her spot by the barbecue grill. She’s got an adorable red apron on, with matching plaid mittens and a skewer in hand. Beomgyu adores the sight. She’s looking like a regular mother for once. “Look on the bright side, honey. It gives us more time to be together, no? The family bonding we’ve been deprived of. It will be a nice period to unwind and go back to old times—just us mothers and sons.”</p><p>“Mina is right. Plus, it feels like it’s been eons since I’ve last seen you and you weren’t rushing off somewhere.” Says Soobin’s mother, busy planting green peppers onto a barbecue stick. “If anything, this just makes it feel more like a true vacation. A getaway.”</p><p>Beomgyu’s face goes pale. Of course their mothers would say that. They are within the top one percent of all of South Korea; wealthy and detached from the true, gruesome natures of the world. While the middle-class are going to struggle paying their bills from their jobs being laid off, there’s the rich who are unaffected by it all, even basking in the sun and having a barbecue in their backyard like it’s an extended vacation. </p><p>Beomgyu and Soobin share a pensive look with each other, yet neither says anything to refute. They’re both sitting on the sun lounge, the shade from the umbrella doing barely enough to shield them from the sun. </p><p>Some respectable distance away, a couple maids stand, face tentative and guilt-stricken as they stare at the two chairwomen preparing the ingredients of their lunch. They look like they’re ready to jump in and help in a heartbeat, but it was Beomgyu’s mother that told them to lay off, saying that they wanted to do it themselves. (Whoever hired these maids last were some truly horrible, entitled people.)</p><p>“But work will also take longer to finish,” Soobin interjects, standing up from his sun lounge. He unties his bathrobe, setting it down on the leather cushion, heading towards the pool in his black rash guard and matching shorts. “It’ll delay the whole manufacturing process, so now everything we’ve planned for is uncertain.” </p><p>At this point, Beomgyu isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s checking him out. He just blatantly stares, scanning him from head to toe, eyebrows raised, impressed. He’s surely got a nice body line going on, toned stomach, defined biceps, slender hips and all. His legs look even longer, stretching like they’re the length of this property’s width. He never knew that Soobin’s waist was this small. Can’t he have a flaw? “But I suppose some family time wouldn’t hurt.” He says just before doing a dive head first into the pool. The water that splashes in effect even gets onto Beomgyu’s feet, making him whine in displeasure. What a show-off. </p><p>“Go join him, darling.” Ushers his mum, gesturing at a drenched Soobin who’s freshly emerged from the pool, shaking the droplets away from his hair like a wet puppy. He does one of those gasps and runs his hands over his face, pushing his hair back. Something about the way he does it doesn’t have to be as graceful and charismatic as it did. More importantly, why is Beomgyu staring? “When you two get up and dry yourselves, lunch will be ready in time.”</p><p>He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to go for a swim. The weather’s nice and ideal—not too hot, not too cloudy, just enough sun. This totally has nothing to do with the guy plowing through the water in a deep dive, swimming with his head underwater and all. (Who is he trying to impress? Does he think he’s in the Olympics?) </p><p>“Then, mothers, do excuse us.” He stands up, untying his own bathrobe and letting it pool on the lounge behind him. He’s sported in an oddly similar attire to Soobin, and it displeases him—a black rash guard outlined with navy details and half-thigh swimming shorts. He doesn’t forget to beckon a maid over and tell them to bring some bottle of wine before heading to the entrance of the pool. Unlike Soobin, he chooses to hold the metal bars and slowly ease himself down into the water. There is no need to be so extravagant. Besides, he doesn’t even swim often. </p><p>The man in question is just halfway through his lap across the expanse, long hands seen plowing through the rippling surface as he makes his way to Beomgyu’s side. He watches the way Soobin’s head stays underwater the whole time, contemplates for a couple seconds, before getting a genius idea. </p><p>When the older reaches the tile-lined side, he emerges, and Beomgyu’s nowhere to be found. It’s like he hasn’t even entered, and for a heartbeat Soobin doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. He was busy doing laps, and thus didn’t catch a certain dark haired male joining him in the water. </p><p>The male rubs the droplets away from his face, giving his drenched hair a light shake, resting his folded hands on the marble lining exterior. Guess he’ll catch his breath for a moment before going back for another round. </p><p>Around him, the body of water remains still. He doesn’t notice the muddled sound of gurgles rippling through the surface, and he doesn’t notice the looming shadow expanding beneath him, under the water and at the base of his feet. </p><p>Soobin lets out the most embarrassing shriek of his life when a hand encloses around his ankle and violently yanks, pulling his frame and submerging him. </p><p>He struggles at first, grappling for purchase at the marble, but the smoothness of the material only lubricates his descend. </p><p>In a split second, water fills Soobin’s lungs. He tastes chlorine on his tongue, and there’s chlorine swimming in his vision as his eyes struggle to open. He chokes for oxygen, emitting air bubbles that seem to miserably ripple and aimlessly float to the surface. </p><p>As he struggles, the shadow returns, now hovering directly above him in the form of hands tugging at his shirt; dark strands of hair rippling through the water. </p><p>It takes him a moment for his feet to touch the bottom of the pool, thus using it to kick himself up and out of the strange figure’s hold. Not today. </p><p>As a child, he used to think about different ways one could die, along which would be favourable if the time ever comes. Drowning is not a good contender on his list. He refuses to be drowned by some random thief breaking into their backyard pool while at a vacation house on a French island, so he wriggles against the hold weighing him down until he reaches the surface, rising with a loud gasp followed by a profuse cough. </p><p>Soobin almost calls for security and leaps straight out of the pool—when a familiar figure emerges from the body of water in front of him. He hears his maniacal laughter first before he gets to see his face, long strands of hair draping over the upper half of it, completely flat against his head. Strings of droplets profusely drip from his hair as he shoves them all back with his hands, and when they meet eyes, Beomgyu looks the most entertained he’s ever had since they landed in Corsica. </p><p>He laughs like he’s having the time of his life; head tilted back, eyes disappearing with how balled up his cheeks are, all rows of teeth visible, the sound tearing through the entire mansion like it’s ripped out of his belly. </p><p>At that moment, Soobin just stares at him in disbelief, at a loss of words. </p><p>“God, that was so funny. You should’ve seen your face! And the sound you made!” He almost topples over and sinks back into the water, having to steady himself, expression outrageous. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”</p><p>For a minute, immediate anger flares through Soobin’s chest at the realisation of being pranked. His instant reflex is to start reprimanding him, pulling him into a headlock to drown him instead—but from how entertained Beomgyu looks, he almost doesn’t have the heart to. He looks too <em> happy </em> laughing like that, like his stomach’s going to hurt from running out of breath. </p><p>So, Soobin hesitates. He just grunts very loudly and splashes a handful of water at him. If he can’t drown him, he’ll settle for the next best thing: a splash war. </p><p>Beomgyu’s mouth is wide open from emptying his belly with laughter, and the water shoved at his face just so happens to go right down his throat, making him sputter in an ugly choke. “Hey!” He shouts, already readying himself to counter attack. Soobin attempts to scoot to the side, but he doesn’t let him move far—following suit and chasing him with another splash of his own. Bursts of water droplets plow through the air like an aqua bomb, spilling all the way to the exterior as Beomgyu yet again drenches Soobin with his onslaught. </p><p>It’s a tragedy that before Beomgyu and Soobin are spouses, they are rivals. Old habits do die hard, because even in front of the watching eyes of their mothers, they still attempt to make a competition out of every little endeavour. </p><p>This continues for a good amount of time, with neither of them wanting the burden of a wounded ego by retreating first. Eventually, they’re forced to cease when they’re beckoned by their mothers, departing the pool with scowls and petulant pouts from the lack of victor. It’s like twenty plus years of living has regressed in the water, reverting them back to five year olds. </p><p>“Look at them sulking like children,” says Beomgyu’s mother, a light chuckle under her breath just as Beomgyu and Soobin wrestle to get up the pool stairs. “Not even caring about anything else. I suppose love does that to you.” </p><p>“Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s like they’re made for each other,” breathes Soobin’s mum, setting the plates across the petite outdoor dining table. “And they don’t even know it.” </p><p>The rest of the afternoon proceeds fairly smoothly, with a pair of warm smiles coddling a pair of sulky huffs around the outdoor dining table. They take turns feeding each other like a humble family on a picnic; Beomgyu doesn’t have a problem feeding his mothers, but almost succeeds in choking Soobin with a mouthful of salad when coerced to ‘feed his husband like couples do’. Soobin shoves his chopsticks a little too further down Beomgyu’s throat when he feeds him beef in return, but they don’t forget to keep the smiles plastered on their faces. For the most part, nothing went wrong, which is all that matters. </p><p>
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</p><p>It takes Beomgyu until later that night to realise something is wrong. </p><p>He just changed into a nightgown—lilac silk pajamas with an outer robe just because he was feeling lavish. His hair is still damp from the shower, a face towel slung around his neck, heading to the balcony of their bedroom just because Soobin is there with a bottle of opened wine. The science is simple: wherever wine goes, Beomgyu follows. </p><p>It doesn’t hit him until he watches Soobin one shot the glass from where he sits at the balcony table, pinky raised and ring glistening under the dim light. It doesn’t hit him until he watches the diamond reflect the orange glow of the wall lamps—to figure out that the same ring isn’t on his finger. </p><p>He halts in his track, looks down at his empty left hand, staring lasers into the spot where his <em> Étincelle de Cartier </em>is supposed to sit.  He rapidly blinks, brows furrowed as he turns his hand around, inspecting for the missing band. He doesn’t move, hoping that maybe it’s just fatigue messing with him and when his vision clears, it will make its hopeful return. He gives it a good second. </p><p>Nothing. It still doesn’t materialise its return onto his finger. </p><p>Beomgyu feels panic creep up his spine. Soobin doesn’t notice, not even regarding him as he stares off into the downhill view of their mansion courtyard. </p><p>Beomgyu, on the other hand, is busy consoling himself. He tells himself that it shouldn’t be a big deal. He shouldn’t panic. They can just buy a new one. After all, it’s just material things. Even money is material. Capitalism is not real. </p><p>He breathes. In. Out. Sure, there’s that. But then there’s also this: Soobin likes to nag at him for forgetting to wear it, thus he constantly goes out of his way to flex it. Just to prove a point that he isn’t forgetful. </p><p>Now its absence is proving Soobin’s point, and he doesn’t like it. That’s what gets him more than the ring being missing: Soobin winning. He also doesn’t like that a platinum diamond wedding band approximately worth $8,000 just escaped his grasp. Capitalism may not be real, but eight thousand dollars is still a lot of money.</p><p>Beomgyu inhales sharply, then turns around to go back into their bedroom. He doesn’t hear Soobin making a surprised noise when he closes the balcony door behind him. Time to commence his search. </p><p>He scouts his usual areas where he’d take it off—the bathroom counter. The nightstand. The coffee table in the living room. He doesn’t remember taking it off, so where could it be? It’s not like he left the house either. He didn’t even do much today, aside from—</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p>Once he’s finally able to grasp what’s amiss, he drops everything and heads straight to the pool, only bothering to take off his outer robe before launching in with a headfirst dive. The thundering water splash cuts through the tranquil night silence like a knife. </p><p>(He should be mindful not to wake up their mothers, but Beomgyu couldn’t care to worry about anything else at the moment. Not when he just lost his wedding ring six months into marriage, fresh after the first day of their honeymoon no less.)</p><p>It has long gone dark, the expanse of the backyard now only lit with some street lamps lining the cobbled pathway. The awfully dim LED lights lining the bottom rim of the pool does little to aid his vision. Beomgyu can barely see anything, yet he continues to swim, diving to the bottom and scouring—hoping to catch an odd glistening of light, coming across a certain hard object at the floor of the pool, anything. </p><p>He tries for a good minute until he feels light-headed from the lack of oxygen, popping back up to the surface with a dragged inhale. Water’s in his ears. Water’s in his lungs. He’s filled with the taste of chlorine through and through, drips of it cascading down his face, past his parted lips and drenching his hair. He could care less about the chlorine. </p><p>That is when Beomgyu hears a muted, “What are you doing?” from a familiar voice somewhere around the premise, followed by shuffling footsteps he can not see. Hair covers his face, blocking his vision until he pushes it back, rubbing the bothersome liquid from his eyes. </p><p>When he grapples for purchase by a corner of the pool, a shadowy figure crouches down in front of him, eyes bewildered and lips twisted in a confused frown. “Going for a night swim in your pajamas? Is this a secret hobby?” </p><p>Beomgyu coughs out a mouthful of water, then shoots his husband the equivalent of daggers through his eyes. If looks could kill, Soobin would probably be dead ten times over by now. He is not in the mood to entertain his bullshit. </p><p>His left hand emerges from the water, flexing out his fingers and showcasing the outside of his palm. At first, Soobin looks perplexed as to why Beomgyu wants him to admire his hand. Then, “I lost my wedding ring.”</p><p>Soobin’s face morphs from confusion to surprise, then deflating to contempt as he stares Beomgyu down with a reprimanding look. He knows he isn’t impressed. Neither is Beomgyu of himself. “We’ll save that talk for later, don’t look at me like that!”</p><p>“Did you not take it off before you went swimming?” Asks Sobin, voice matter-of-fact. He rubs the space between his eyebrows with the heel of his palm, looking like a stressed single father about to engage in some lecturing. Beomgyu oddly feels like a toddler about to be subjected to the end of said lecturing. He is not thrilled. </p><p>“No,” Beomgyu realises too late that that’s what he should have done. He forgets that he’s barely ever swam in the past six months. In the same span of time frame, he also forgets that he now has to wear a ring at all times. It’s not his fault he doesn’t like getting wet. Nor getting betrothed, for that matter. All he can offer is, “I forgot.”</p><p>Thus, Soobin clicks his tongue in annoyance and stares at him with the same irritated expression, brows knotted. “Get up, I’ll tell the maids to look for it tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Beomgyu acknowledges that it makes sense. He knows that what he suggested is the best route to take, but at eleven o’clock and a whole Versace pajamas dipped in water, he can’t be bothered to leave without having achieved anything first. His mum didn’t raise no quitter. “No. I’m already in here, so might as well try. You can go to bed first.”</p><p>That is all Beomgyu offers before turning around to plow off once more, taking a deep inhale before diving back to the bottom of the pool. He prepares himself for a possible hour of wallowing in the water until his fingers dry up like raisins, even bloating like a cuttlefish if that’s what it takes. Just because Soobin told him not to, he is now determined not to leave until the ring is back on his finger. </p><p>What he didn’t prepare for is another splash to interrupt his scavenge, an additional silhouette joining him at the bottom of the pool. At first, he sees the light blue sleeve of his silk pajamas, then the familiar long hands in which the ring in desire is sat on his finger. Then, he sees his face.  </p><p>Even in the poor lighting of the pool, Soobin still manages to look glum, giving him an unimpressed look before swimming in the opposite direction, probably searching elsewhere. Beomgyu supposes he’s successfully recruited another person to his search party. Soobin doesn’t even look like he’s helping out of goodwill, seeming to only jump in out of obligation. Beomgyu doesn’t understand why he didn’t just turn back and saunter off to their bedroom the way he expected him to, instead joining his body count in a pool fully clothed at almost midnight. The water is barely warm anymore, the chill night breeze blowing past like a shrill reminder of their poor choices. Soobin doesn’t even have to help, but he did anyway. Beomgyu doesn’t understand why such a mundane fact puts a smile on his face.</p><p>After a good while, they regroup at the surface, somehow miraculously emerging right in front of each other. “You didn’t have to, you know. I can look for it on my own.” Beomgyu starts flicking water from his hair with a little shake. The droplets fall on none other than Soobin, his poor recipient of tonight’s unfortunate turn of events. </p><p>He doesn’t even look bothered by it, just sighs defeatedly and slicks his hair back from his forehead. “And wake up to my husband’s bloated corpse floating around the pool the next morning? What do you think your mother would think of me? She made me swear to her that I’ll ‘protect’ you no matter what. Threatened me as soon as the wedding reception’s over.” He says the second half with spite, spewing it off like it’s laced with poison. Beomgyu knows he should be offended, but even to his surprise, a melodious giggle erupts from his chest. Soobin also turns to give him a look. “That’s cute. You’re worried about me.”</p><p>“How did you even come to that conclusion...” Mutters the older to himself, eyes widening in more incredulity than surprise. “Never mind. Just find the damned ring so we can go to sleep.”</p><p>“God, you think I want to lose that stupid ring and put myself through this? It wasn’t even my idea to go swimming!” Shrieks Beomgyu as Soobin walks off to the other side of the pool, beginning to examine around the stair entrance. Beomgyu scatters to a secluded corner he has yet to inspect when Soobin bites back, “But it <em> was </em>your idea to get married!”</p><p>It pains Beomgyu’s pride to know that he’s right, unable to come up with a clever comeback other than a simple, “Fuck you! You agreed, so it’s also your fault! You even picked the rings!”</p><p>“I didn’t pick the most expensive of <em> Cartier </em>’s catalogue for you to lose it in a pool, Beomgyu.” Soobin retorts, back turned to Beomgyu before he disappears under the water surface again. Beomgyu just scoffs to himself and does the same. Maybe he’ll think of a good comeback by the time they emerge again. </p><p>He holds onto that thought as he sinks to the bottom, wavy hands feeling everything he could touch on the floor. Time seems to pass for a good minute, and Beomgyu’s just glad he was trained to hold his breath underwater as a kid. Who knows swimming lessons would repay him in such uncanny ways? </p><p>He’s too busy thinking about what complaint to make of Soobin’s ring choice, that he almost misses the muted shout from the other side—loud and boisterous and weirdly elated, “Found it!”</p><p>When he pops up from the water again, Beomgyu is shocked to discover that Soobin looks more ecstatic about finding his ring than he is. The guy stands by the stair entrance of the pool, holding onto the metal railing with one hand and a glistening object in the other, enthusiastically waving. “Found it by the spot where you tried to drown me, you demon.”  </p><p>“You’re still not over it?” The memory draws an amused chuckle from Beomgyu, swimming toward Soobin. He glows with pride and a dimpled grin, looking like a big dog waiting to be praised for successfully bringing back a frisbee. It’s definitely out of character for him, yet oddly endearing nonetheless. Beomgyu withholds his snarky comment just this once and reaches for his ring. It really is the ring in question. The star of the hour. Root of all his problems. </p><p>But just as he reaches, Soobin extends it past his grasp, stretching his hand up into the air. He even backs away a good amount. “Not so fast.” </p><p>Recognising that the older is back on his bullshit, Beomgyu is then reminded of the fact that nothing is ever free in this world—not even a favour from your very own husband. We live in a cruel world. “What the fuck? Give it back!” He tries again, attempting to scoot closer and perform a little hop. It’s like Soobin expected as much, because he also hops, turning his body away. “I found this for you, don’t you think you owe me a favour now?”</p><p>“What the hell do you want from me?” Screeches Beomgyu, clearly exasperated and not entertained. He tries one more time, then dreads their height difference for making him fail all of his attempts. Why is the world so corrupt and unfair? Why can’t he just be given what is rightfully his? </p><p>“There’s a scheduled Zoom meeting at 7AM tomorrow with the researchers from the lab,” Soobin starts, a bastard smirk already on his face. He twirls the ring in his hand, the diamond glistening against the droplet clinging on its surface. “As a reward, I’m going to sleep in. Attend it in my stead.” </p><p>Beomgyu fumes at his proposition. It’s clear that 7AM isn’t even early for Soobin who goes for morning jogs at the crack of dawn. However, the satan is fully aware of how Beomgyu doesn’t properly function until he is properly caffeinated and the digit on the clock hits double. This guy already planned it out.</p><p>They may not be a typical couple who knows each other’s favourite colour and how they like their eggs in the morning. Hell, they’re not even a real couple—but one thing they are extremely affluent of are each other’s working habits. For instance, Beomgyu knows that Soobin leaves to the office an hour earlier than he does, and he knows he’s burdened with a trip to Starbucks for his cold brew and an espresso for the former (Double shot, Soobin would insist every time. He doesn’t drink it unless Beomgyu gets it right). A business world equivalent of getting a tardy slip when you work with your partner. </p><p>Soobin obviously knows how much Beomgyu hates morning meetings. This leads him to arrive at an outrageous conclusion that he’s just intentionally making it hard for him. He finds gratification in his struggles. Forget the ring, now Beomgyu wants to drown him for the second time with serious killing intent. “You ass!” </p><p>“Language,” He shuts him down, showcasing the ring between his thumb and forefinger. A cruel reminder that he’s being blackmailed. “Yes, and I’ll give it to you. No, and I’m throwing it back into the pool.” </p><p>Beomgyu has reached his limit. He has to physically close his eyes, because the sight of Soobin is too much incentive for him to commit a first degree crime of passion. “Fuck you.” The younger mutters incoherently, takes in a deep breath, then opens them grudgingly. “Fine.”</p><p>He has to bear the dissatisfaction of watching Soobin smile. Beomgyu sees red as the male holds his wrist, gently sliding the ring back onto his finger. “Good.” </p><p>“I will kill you.” He whispers, words seething through gritted teeth. Soobin’s smile just grows wider. “Not a chance.”</p><p> </p><p>At the other side of the mansion, from the balcony of a room that overlooks the pool; two women sit, peering at the unravelling of events with tender smiles on their faces. “Aren’t they cute together? Look how in love.”</p><p>Soobin’s mother sighs softly, pleased, “Young love. It’s like they’re meant to be.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i have no excuse for this being over 11k.  i have nothing to say for myself. this is not happening again. see you in a week. [disappears behind curtains] </p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/prodbeomjun">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/soobivert">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. that's when</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for the lack of update last week ... i can explain D:<br/>first, my charger broke, so i couldn't write on my laptop. then, once i tried to write on my phone, gdoc mysteriously ate up 7k of my work and so i have to rewrite it TT</p><p>enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Soobin walks out of the shower greeted by an apron thrown at his face. </p><p>“What took you so long?” Grumbles a familiar voice from his side, accompanied by a pair of shuffling footsteps. The taller just stands still by the bathroom door, letting the checkered red and white apron cover his bust. Beomgyu’s on his morning monologue complaint again. “I gave my feedback report to the R&amp;D team. My secretary’s working on it.”</p><p>“Good, did you like waking up before the sun for once?” He finally removes the cloth from his head, staring down his spouse with a look full of mirth. As much as it is a nuisance to listen to Beomgyu complain, it also never fails to entertain him. There’s something about an annoyed Beomgyu that uncannily reminds him of a raging puppy. </p><p>“Absolutely not, I will kill you in your sleep next time you put me through something like this again,” Beomgyu revolts, immediately not liking the way he’s being stared at, sauntering away like a sulking child. Soobin quietly snickers, his analogy proven to be accurate. He even waddles slightly as he walks. How adorable. “And come out, your mother’s baking and wants our help.”</p><p>“Another family bonding activity?” Says Soobin, sighing and putting the apron on with ease. As he ties it around his waist, he notices that Beomgyu’s already out of his business formal attire; sporting a simple white tee, grey sweatpants and even a matching apron in periwinkle.</p><p>The soft, endearing domestic image of Choi Industry’s vice president reduced to a baking housewife makes Soobin hold back a snort. “You look so cute like that, I should snap a picture and send it to Taehyun.”</p><p>He is immediately rewarded with a menacing scowl and a whack on his chest. “How dare you call me cute!” Beomgyu hisses through his teeth, ushering Soobin to close the bedroom door behind him as they exit. </p><p>Even when the pair is descending the corridor, Beomgyu is still whining, smoothing out the wrinkles on his apron in the process. “This is embarrassing, I can’t believe I’m doing this for your mother. The perfect son-in-law that I am. Tell Yeonjun to up his game.”</p><p>The taller lets out a small scoff under his breath and rolls his eyes to himself. Of course Beomgyu sees it and reprimands him with a nudge of his elbow. “What? It’s true, your mum likes me more than you.”</p><p>“So does yours. She’s more in love with me than you are,” Casually responds Soobin, making a turn into the kitchen area. He catches sight of two figures hunched over the kitchen island, backs turned to them, not seeming to notice the intrusion. </p><p>Beomgyu quickly hisses, offended, “How dare you assume I’m in l—” </p><p>“Mothers, fancy any assistance?” His rebuttal is rudely cut off by a hand snaking around his waist and a dimpled smile. Soobin pulls him closer, sneakily nudging his hips against Beomgyu’s as a sign for him to shut up. </p><p>Right. They can’t have their mothers watch them bicker like middle school children when they’re supposed to be in the honeymoon phase. Beomgyu’s infuriated expression diminishes into a strained smile. How long is long enough for a couple to exit the honeymoon stage and go into petty quarrels? Because he can’t wait. </p><p>“Ah, sweethearts. There you are.” It’s Beomgyu’s mother that looks up first, beckoning them over. “We’re making cookies. Areum is kneading the dough, why don’t you boys help us cut the cookies and decorate?” </p><p>No matter how much Beomgyu wants to deny it, it seems like what Soobin said stands true—judging from the way Beomgyu’s mum doesn’t even spare him a glance, eyes totally fixated on the taller male and ushering him to her side. “Here, Soobin-ah. Put your gloves on.”</p><p>Beomgyu’s lips twist to a pout, sourly regarding the image of Soobin getting along with his mother better than he does. He watches the way they fall into a comfortable chatter in no time, Beomgyu’s mum laughing at basically anything he says; the wrinkles of a smile adorning corners of her eyes, the dimples deepening on Soobin’s cheeks and the fond look he has on his face. They feel much more like mother and son than he does, even when he has the bond of blood on his side. Guess blood really isn’t thicker than water at all. </p><p>A part of him wants to sulk at having to divide his attention from his mother, being the spoiled single child that he is—but a part of him floods with warmth, heart swelling in his chest at the wholesomeness of it all. A tender smile makes its way onto the younger’s face unbeknownst to him. Pretence or not, it surely does make for an endearing image. </p><p>Never in his wildest dreams would he think that the son of their rival company would be in a kitchen with his mother, helping her knead cookie doughs like they’ve known each other all their lives. The thought feels comical, almost ironic. </p><p>This must be what married life feels like. Beomgyu bizarrely understands why some people crave the kinship of one. There’s a magic to it that can’t be felt through mass media nor fairy tales, but only in person. The serene warmth that fills the air, the smell of cookie dough, the quiet chatters and occasional bursts of laughters. The mundane serendipity makes him feel comforted. </p><p>For a brief moment, he almost forgets the sham of it all—almost forgets that he isn’t supposed to be looking at Soobin like that unfeigned. Forgets that this is all an arrangement for mutual benefits; a business contract. Forgets that anything other than annoyance isn’t supposed to fill his chest when he looks at Choi Soobin. </p><p>He remembers only spite and irritation the first time they proposed this arrangement, opposite each other in a crowded café. What has changed? </p><p>“Beomgyu, dear, how long are you going to keep staring at him like that?” A voice resounds from behind him, a petite yet warm hand settling on his forearm. </p><p>Beomgyu feels like he’s just been pulled through all dimensions of the Earth, all at once, snapping back to reality and profusely blinking at the person to his side.</p><p>Next to him stands Soobin’s mother, a fond smile on her face as she gives his side a gentle squeeze. “You look at him just like how I used to look at his father, back in the day.”</p><p>Well.</p><p>Beomgyu has never once slipped. He’s always a good actor, ready to put on an act no matter what the circumstance demands—in front of a thousand people at a press conference, in front of internationally acclaimed clients, and very recently, against a bedroom door—but right now, he does not know how to act. </p><p>He stammers, awkwardly clearing his throat and offering her a feigned smile. “Do you need my help with anything, mother?”</p><p>The woman still gives him that lingering look, only pulling away after a heartbeat too long. “Help me make some madeleines. It’s your husband’s favourite.”</p><p>Bomegyu almost flinches at the mention of <em> husband </em>, completely forgetting the fact that that’s what they are now. Husbands. </p><p>To anyone else but Beomgyu and Soobin, they are family—and especially to their mothers in front of them, all of this is real. </p><p>Beomgyu smiles, feels his heart both flutter and sink in his chest. “Of course. Share your recipe so I know just how he likes it. I’ll make it for him sometimes.”</p><p>
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</p><p>The rest of the morning proceeds much more amicably than Beomgyu’s anticipated.</p><p>Maybe it’s the workaholic that has conditioned his lifestyle into forgetting the need for domestic, familial bliss. Maybe it’s the late hours in the office, the board meetings and countless reports to read that makes him forget that he is still what essentially boils down to a family man. </p><p>Even since he and Soobin moved out, Beomgyu often fails to remember the feeling of coming home to his mother’s homemade soup. He forgets what it’s like to come downstairs to the scent of his father’s espresso and the sound of rustling newspapers. He forgets nights when his mother chooses to stay up, wait for him to come home after his work dinner no matter how late—because otherwise, there wouldn’t be another time she’s able to see his face. </p><p>Little things like this are what easily gets lost in detail, but it’s also the little things that end up meaning the most. </p><p>For instance, little things like their mothers discussing what shape of cookie cutters would be best. Little things like Beomgyu and Soobin bickering over the colour of sprinkles to go on top. Little things like Soobin’s mother advising him how sour is the right amount of sour for a madeleine. Little things like his mother fixing his hair that’s gotten flour specks all over it, him tickling her and running laps around the kitchen island because he almost made her drop the cookie tray.</p><p>It’s the subtle gestures that speak the loudest, and it’s also the little things that makes Beomgyu recall his judgement back into question. When they gather around the dining table for breakfast, plates full of cookies that they’ve made, chatting about obtuse details, Beomgyu is filled with as much bliss as he is questions. </p><p>He wonders if it’s still all an act when even the little things feel so inexplicably natural. He wonders how far is considered too far for him, and how far would that be for Soobin. </p><p>He questions the way Soobin would unceremoniously wipe a trail of flour stuck to his cheek without him asking. He questions the way the taller would creep up from behind him, resting a chin on his shoulder and wrapping a hand around his waist, asks him how he is with the process and tells him he’s doing well. </p><p>He questions the way Soobin drops a chaste kiss to his shoulder whenever they’re close enough, questions the way he lets him have the first cookie that comes out of the oven, feeds it to him with gentle hands and gentler eyes. </p><p>But with the way their mothers would coo at every little romantic gesture, Beomgyu has little choice but to play along—fixes Soobin’s apron for him when it goes askew, wipe the trickle of sweat down the side of his face when he’s too close to the oven heat. Kisses the blot of dough off the tip of his nose, eating it while Soobin burns bright red. </p><p>There are little things that Beomgyu believes couldn’t be so spotlessly feigned, even when they try. There should be at least some room for error, given that they’re no acclaimed Hollywood stars. He’s waiting for a mishap to happen, a look of mischief or Soobin trying to get on his nerves when their mothers aren’t looking. </p><p>It doesn’t come. Even when they’re finishing up breakfast and their mothers are ready to depart the table, it doesn’t come. </p><p>But when Beomgyu isn’t paying attention, just looking up from munching a cookie, he catches Soobin staring at him from across the table, an unreadable look in his eyes. A look foreign to Beomgyu that he can’t quite conjure. It makes his heart thump in his chest, wary with the burden of not knowing. Uncertainty. </p><p>He questions if Soobin is on the same page as him, having the same revelation. </p><p>Soobin averts his gaze, looks away when the maids come to collect their plates, and Beomgyu tells himself not to question it. They are just little things. </p><p>
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</p><p>Yet, it’s always the little things that add up into a colossus. </p><p>Singular droplets of water, trickling down an aluminum pipe until it rusts and cracks in two. Flickers of embers, catching the wind and landing on a pile of ashen leaves, seizing the flame until it explodes into an inferno. </p><p>Beomgyu didn’t pay attention to the little things. That was his first mistake. </p><p>Now, he’s stuck having to compensate for his carelessness. At the backyard garden in the late hours of the night, silence shrouding him like the trimmed rose bushes save for the sound of wind that makes his nose wrinkle, his hair tousled. </p><p>It’s a couple hours after dinner, with his mothers on the other side of the house and Soobin accompanying them in the living room. He decides to excuse himself, figures that now’s the perfect time to go on a walk in the garden and call his boyfriend. The latter is what makes up a majority of his reason, but no one has to know that. </p><p>It all started out well, with Beomgyu’s face lighting up brighter than a shooting star once his screen fills up with a familiar face. Messy blond hair against spotless white pillows, wide eyes that are half-lidded, his favourite voice now laced with a tinge of slurring, drowsiness. Seems like his Taehyun just woke up from a nap. </p><p>It continued well, them finally having the privacy they need to catch up. Beomgyu finally gets to hear Taehyun’s dulcet laughter that’s meant only for him, watching the way his eyes shine as he tells him about his day. </p><p>He also watches those clear orbs droop in sadness when he tells him how much he misses him. Having to face the situation that sets them apart even further than they already are, the intangible distance of the lockdown multiplying Taehyun’s anguish by tenfold. </p><p>Then, it begins. The crestfallen look in Taehyun’s eyes as they empty out and fixate on a spot of his screen that doesn’t seem like his face.</p><p>First, Beomgyu even has to turn around, checking if anyone’s behind him, in case Taehyun has spotted an unwanted intruder.</p><p>But in the process of him craning his neck, he momentarily forgets—the most important thing he intends to keep hidden, as to not raise doubts and questions from the prince.</p><p>When he turns around in realisation, a guilty hand flying up to cover the hickey on his neck, the disappointment in Taehyun’s eyes signals him that it’s too late. </p><p>“He gave you a hickey?” Says the voice through his phone speakers, the previous glee in his voice now gone. It’s cold and stale and shrill, cutting Beomgyu’s faltered smile in half. </p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t understand why he feels ashamed, stammering as he stresses for ways to explain, “It’s not what it looks like, Tyun. It was his idea, and it was kind of required, at the time—”</p><p>Then comes the outburst from the other line, Taehyun’s wide eyes now lined with aggravation and incredulity. The flickers of embers are now catching the wind, ready to settle on a pile of ashen leaves. “What type of situation did you get into to <em> require </em> you to give each other hickeys, hyung? What type of situation demands you to <em> pretend </em> that much?” </p><p>The embers find its dead leaves in the widened look of Beomgyu’s eyes.</p><p>That’s when the flames begin to manifest. It manifests as heat that crawls up his neck, devouring his face, burning his cheeks as Beomgyu swallows in silence. He doesn’t know if the heat comes from the humiliation of Taehyun being right, or anger of him trying to prove him wrong. </p><p>After all, Beomgyu is competitive by nature. This entails him being fiercely headstrong since the dawn of time, always outdoing anyone around him—and oftentimes himself.  </p><p>But that also means there are times where he makes a competition out of things that aren’t meant to be competitive. Things like this, letting the flame seize him under he explodes into an inferno. He should have extinguished it while he had the chance</p><p>Taehyun’s look of disappointment isn’t an invitation for him to fight. He doesn’t understand why veins begin to pop by the side of his neck, tone growing accusatory as he strikes back. He thinks the self defence for being misinterpreted is returning the favour. “Taehyun, what are you accusing me of right now? Do you not trust me?”</p><p>There’s a split second of silence on the other side as the blond’s expression falls, blinking slowly at him. “Hyung, it’s not you I don’t trust,” He starts, then averts his gaze, avoiding the annoyed look in Beomgyu’s eyes, “It’s anyone else that isn’t you.”</p><p>Beomgyu isn’t sure if it’s just the rattled nerves that make him filter out only the things he wants to hear, because <em> that </em>rubbed him the wrong way. “Are you saying I’m not old enough to look after myself? Do you not think I can tell right from wrong, or not know where the lines are? Are you doubting me?” His voice increases in volume, strained with a tone of aggression as his eyes widen.</p><p>In his screen, Taehyun sighs, covers the upper half of his face with his hand. He seems furious when he turns back to meet Beomgyu’s eyes. The look in those orbs that used to only hold adoration and love is now staring at him like Beomgyu is a person he doesn’t recognise. </p><p>That look pains him more than anything Taehyun could ever accuse him of. “I am <em> not </em> doubting you! Nor your intentions—hyung, listen to me—do I not have the right to be angry? I’m <em> jealous </em> because I <em> am </em>your partner, not him. Why is he allowed to do things even I’m not allowed to do? Why do I feel like I have to compete with him for your love, when it’s not even supposed to be a competition in the first place? Did you not ensure me that this stupid arrangement you have is for the best of us? Why am I not getting anything beneficial from this since it’s started?”</p><p>Taehyun’s voice builds in volume until it turns into a stressed shout, and when he realises the look of shock on Beomgyu’s face, his voice lowers. “Why is it that the only thing I’ve been getting since I let you on that altar with him is pain? Do you know what it’s like to attend your own boyfriend’s wedding?”</p><p>In hindsight, there’s a side of Beomgyu that wants to wind down and reflect on Taehyun’s words. In hindsight, he knows deep down that Taehyun is right to a degree. He is entitled to feel a sense of jealousy, and his anger stems from good reasons. He knows his Taehyun well, and he knows that no matter what, the male has always had good reasons. </p><p>But right now, with the tone he’s using and the way he’s looking at him like he’s grown a horn on his head, Beomgyu wants to do anything else but. </p><p>“Kang Taehyun, that’s enough. You are being unreasonable.” He hisses through gritted teeth, the camera in his hold growing shaky from the motion of him rushing out of the garden. This is signalling to the younger that their call is about to end. </p><p>“How am I being unreasonable? I’m not allowed to be seen in public with you. Fine. I’m not allowed to act like your boyfriend around other people. Fine. I’m not allowed to leave you hickeys because it embarrasses you in front of your clients. Fine. But how come <em> he </em> gets to do all those things? Who <em> is </em> exactly your partner, Choi Beomgyu?” His tone continues to drip of raw emotions throughout his words. The blond male is now worked up enough to leave his bed and stand up just so he can properly direct his anger. </p><p>Beomgyu feels a strange sensation in his chest. He feels like he’s trapped in a box that continuously closes in on him, suffocating his breath, grinding his bones. He feels an excruciating heat that licks at the flames in his lungs, fanning it until it fills all nerves of his being, setting him alight. He doesn’t understand why he feels like he’s about to be strangled by invisible hands, and he doesn’t recognise the words that fall off his mouth next before the line disconnects.</p><p>“Don’t call me again.”</p><p>His legs shuffle from a trot into a jog, crushing fields of grass beneath his feet until he transitions into a full-on run. He’s already gone the opposite direction of the mansion before he realises he’s running.</p><p>He runs and runs, letting the wind crashing against his frame coddle the heat that scalds his skin, putting out the flames, stealing his breaths until coughs spill from his lips, as do tears that begin to blur his vision. </p><p>And he continues to run. He runs and doesn’t look back—out the garden, down the path of the mansion’s driveway and past the tall metal gates. He doesn’t quite know where he’s heading yet doesn’t quite care, the only thing on his mind a torturous loop of Taehyun’s words that materialise into invisible daggers, stabbing him at all the wrong angles.</p><p>He runs until all the air’s knocked out from his lungs. Until the sensation of wind cradling his face feels like a repeated slap, until the heat on his skin simmers into cool steams, until the feeling of hands closing in on his throat relents. </p><p>When he finally stops, he heaves, hunched over with hands on his knees, face tear-streaked, no longer able to perceive what’s in front of him before he topples over, falling head first.</p><p>He expects himself to crash onto hard cement. He half-anticipates a few scratches and tears of his skin, expects to be on some pavement, or the middle of the road. </p><p>What he doesn’t expect is the oddly gentle feeling of the ground sinking beneath him, cushioning his fall. His knees dig into a weirdly uneven plane, the surface submerging along with his body when he drops. It almost feels like he’s sunken into a grainy mattress, until particles of enigmatic dust begins to kick up into his face, making him sputter.</p><p>He rubs the tears away from his eyes, sees the beige grains clinging onto the sleeves of his shirt, then realises. Sand. How is there sand? </p><p>Perplexed, Beomgyu pushes himself up into a sitting position and looks around. He is met with no one, his only companion being the distant sound of crickets and the crashing of waves some meters away from his feet. </p><p>He hears the wind just a bit better than from when he was at the mansion backyard, the sound of the chill night breeze cooing in his ears as it slithers past, teases him with its loose embrace, before he’s left in the silence of the churning tides. </p><p>He’s laying on sand. He’s at the beach. </p><p>He can vaguely recall this as the beach Soobin once pointed out from their view of the bedroom. How did he get here? Can he see his house from here? </p><p>He turns around, panicked, trying to spot the familiar structure. He is met with rows of terracotta-coloured roofs, houses stacked on top of each other as it cascades down the hilltop. There’s too many buildings blocking his vision, he can’t find their mansion from here. </p><p>He’s fucked. </p><p>Beomgyu sighs, covers his face with his hands, then tries to feel for a familiar device in the pocket of his sweatpants. He’s launched into hysteria when he doesn’t find it. </p><p>To make matters worse, he remembers throwing his phone away as soon as he hung up, the device now probably laying buried underneath some flower bush, dirt-covered. </p><p>Great. Now he’s impulsively run out of his house and left his phone, having no way to contact anyone to pick him up or tell them where he is. As if this night couldn’t take a worse twist.</p><p>He doesn’t remember how much time has passed since he left to the garden. He forgot to keep track of time as he sped out of the mansion with nothing but a pair of scurrying feet and impulsiveness. </p><p>He wonders if their mothers have noticed his absence by now. He wonders if they’re out in the garden looking for him. He wonders if Soobin is also looking for him.</p><p>He wonders if Soobin tries to call his phone, only for it to go to voicemail. He wonders if Soobin can sense something is wrong. </p><p>Beomgyu sighs, running an exasperated hand through his face. But why is he thinking about Soobin <em> now </em> out of all times? </p><p>“Choi Beomgyu, get a grip,” He whispers underneath his breath, eyes closed, frame hunched over his knees before kicking himself back into a standing position. Maybe he can take this opportunity to be alone and let his thoughts simmer. Let his heart calm.</p><p>He looks around, trying to once again detect any form of life on the beach aside from himself. The only type of motion that answers him are the rustling of leaves and quiet roll of the waves. </p><p>He stands tall, straightens his back, and decides he’ll go for a walk. </p><p>Perhaps the feeling of sand digging between his toes and saltwater staining the hems of his pants would help him gather his thoughts. </p><p>With that in mind, he leans down to take off his shoes, holding them in one hand, before advancing toward the shore. </p><p>The first tide comes in lethargically, creeping up the sand in a small wave, barely making its presence known as it stops just shy of his ankles. The sensation of cold water brushing against his bare skin makes him take in a breath. It’s colder than he anticipated. </p><p>But it’s also surprisingly nice. Beomgyu likes the contrast in temperature that soothes him, making him feel something that isn’t the turmoil of flaring up inside him. It reminds him that he’s still here and not given into the evil side of his own thoughts. That he’s okay. Still breathing.</p><p>Beomgyu grunts audibly, chest heaving as he stands rooted in the sands, letting each clash of water find a home on his feet. He lets it submerge him as the tide continues to rise, from barely dousing his toes to coming all the way to his ankles. </p><p>He looks up, finally takes in the view of the night sky. He’s surprised to not see anything obstructing his view, so used to being in the city with so little he could see. It’s a full moon tonight, adorned with scatters of stars like an infinite ceiling. Perhaps he can recognise a few of the constellations if he tries.</p><p>As he’s buried deep in thoughts, he lets nature coerce him—lets the wind tease his skin, ruffle underneath his shirt and sleep in his hair, lets the water drench the hem of his pants as he continues to walk along the shore, he feels his heart take root in his chest. </p><p>For the first time in days since he left Korea, he’s finally given time alone. Solidarity to reflect in, the much needed silence to hear the loudness of his thoughts. </p><p>He didn’t realise there’s been a nagging feeling in the pit of his chest, a subtle tug that’s been growing into a push—until it has successfully shoved him off a cliff. He didn’t know he’s been concealing a mere graze that has festered into a nasty wound, and it took him being an ocean away from Taehyun to finally feel the sting of its burn. </p><p>As he absentmindedly trudges along the quiet shore, lamenting, lets his feet compass him through the empty beach, he’s hit with a realisation.</p><p>Maybe the blond has a point. Maybe it really is his fault he can’t trust him anymore, because <em> he </em>has been neglecting Taehyun too much. Seeing him less and less, paying him less attention, calls growing shorter with each ring. </p><p>And maybe tomorrow when he’s calmed down enough, he’ll think about a way to talk to Taehyun again, and try to explain himself better than the miserable failure of an attempt today. Maybe he’ll also apologise. </p><p>How long has it been since Taehyun texted him and he actually replied on time? Instead of staring at the notification and shoving his phone back into his pocket—telling himself he’ll do it when he’s not busy? </p><p>It’s true that ever since their companies have been merged, Beomgyu’s been tasked with double the workload. He has to be around Soobin almost at all times, not having time to pick up Taehyun’s calls on the first try. Taehyun always has to call him a minimum of twice if he wants to get an answer. </p><p>Since when has he become too busy to be with the person he loves? </p><p>Suddenly, the revelation hits him like a pebble thrown into a calm lake; the effect so subtle, yet enough to cause a thousand ripples that pierces through him like a deafening hit. Beomgyu’s breath catches in his throat before he stops walking, and sinks down into a crouch. He pays no attention to the water now flooding all the way up to his thighs. The night tide rises faster than he expected. </p><p>How long has it been since he was in Taehyun’s company and let them take their time, not scurrying to hide behind curtains or rushing in between schedules? </p><p>How long has it been since he actually looked into the prince’s eyes and actually <em> saw </em>him, instead of a fabricated image of who Beomgyu wanted him to be? </p><p>Has he noticed the creases on his face that grow each time Taehyun looks at him with concern? Has he noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes from losing sleep when he makes time to see him at ungodly hours of the night, just so they can be with each other? Has he noticed how long ago it’s been since the last time his boyfriend smiled and actually have it reach his eyes? </p><p>Beomgyu lets go of his shoes, not registering the way they float with the retreating waves, reaching up to cover his face with a choked sob. </p><p>It takes him this long to realise how horrible of a partner he’s been. Taehyun who, no matter what, always responds with a smile. Taehyun who never rushes him or adds to his burden, choosing to only bring forth love and support each time. Taehyun who never gets mad or disagrees with anything Beomgyu has to say, only ever wanting to look out for him.</p><p>Taehyu who’s probably suppressed his own needs for God knows how long before he finally snaps. And even then, Beomgyu responded in the most typical asshole fashion he could. </p><p>He groans, gripping at the hair of his fringe, harshly tugging. It’s not Taehyun’s fault he doubts him. It’s his, allowing room for the mistrust to form in the first place. </p><p>He should be grateful for such a kind and understanding partner, who doesn’t object to his plan of fake marriage even though it came at the compromise of his own needs. He’s never objected to anything he perceives to be within Beomgyu’s best interest. </p><p>When was the last time Beomgyu’s done something that is within <em> his </em> best interest? </p><p>“What are you doing? Trying to grow a mermaid tail?” </p><p>The intruding voice startles him so hard Beomgyu jolts and falls back on his butt, water splashing all around his bottom when he looks up at the source in shock. </p><p>The source in question is hunched over him, hands on his knees, panting softly as he stares at him, bewildered. He must have been running. “I scouted the entire damn island to find you. Get out of the water, it’s cold. You’ll be sick.” Says Soobin, extending a hand. Beomgyu quickly wipes away his tears, clears his throat, and lets the older hoist him up. He can’t be seen like this, crying by the beach like some damsel in distress waiting for her prince charming. </p><p>And as soon as he stands up, he’s hit with the barrage of questions he’s been dreading. Soobin’s grip on his hand is death tight, glowering with annoyance before his tone raises incredulously. “What the fuck were you thinking, running off like that without your phone?” </p><p>Soobin is furious. He has reasons to be, after running laps around the whole mansion—which, regarding the size,is no case an easy feat—checking every room, profusely calling Beomgyu’s cell, only to find it laid abandoned on a cobblestone walkway in the garden. </p><p>He has to bang down the guard’s quarters and check security footage. He does it just to be greeted with a tape of Beomgyu bolting his way out of the mansion, at the speed of Sonic. </p><p>And thus, he has spent the last thirty minutes performing Olympic-level marathons around the perimeter, checking every alleyway and pavement. </p><p>The city is dead quiet, it being an hour shy to midnight and with the lockdown curfew imposed. Soobin can only pray that he won’t run into a patrolling cop and hope for the best. He just had a really good steak for dinner, and all of that is spent on trying to find his poor excuse of a husband—he’s not in the mood for being held at a police station tonight. </p><p>It takes him a good amount of consideration to decide whether or not checking the beach is a good idea, seeing that it’s awfully silent and chilly with the night breeze. It’s always the coldest by any body of water at night. Surely, Beomgyu wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk along the beach when the tide is predicted to be at an all-time high of the year, right? </p><p>He’s devastated to say that he’s been proven wrong. </p><p>Next to him, the culprit stands, head hung low and averting his gaze, sweatpants completely soaked. He doesn’t even make a sound as Soobin drags him out of the waves’ way, back to the dry and sandy shore. </p><p>“We are in lockdown, there’s a curfew. You are not supposed to come out after 8PM, so can you please care to tell me why you decided to impulsively channel Mayweather and—”</p><p>Soobin’s booming voice dies down into silence like extinguished flame when he hears a sound he doesn’t recognise. </p><p>It is interrupted by a sniffling cry—low and small, almost inaudible as it blends with the wind—but if that isn’t enough notice, he feels a force sinking into his chest.</p><p>When the older looks down, he sees the sight of a messy-haired blob crashing against his torso, frame slightly trembling. Whether from the cold or something else, Soobin finds it hard to discern. </p><p>Then the sobs grow louder, strong enough to reach earshot, and all of a sudden Soobin understands. </p><p>He can only sigh, “You and Taehyun fought, didn’t you?”</p><p>His question is answered with a particularly loud noise at the back of Beomgyu’s throat. That’s all he needs to know. Couple quarrels. As much as he himself dreads it, things like that are inevitable.</p><p>For a moment, Soobin freezes, not knowing how to appropriately act. He is not an empathetic person, and he’s lucky enough to meet Yeonjun who also doesn’t dwell on negative emotions. Even when they fight, it’s never over anything big enough to cause such an uproar. Yeonjun is an easy person, and so is he. </p><p>But Beomgyu isn’t. He’s never seen him cry, but from what he knows of the younger, he’s never the type to get emotional easily either. This can only lead him to conclude that whatever they fought over, it’s something big. </p><p>So what does he do now? Does he console him or let him cry, or does he tell him to pick himself up so they can go home? </p><p>Fortunately, Soobin has to ponder no further, as the source of his worries answers his question for him.</p><p>“Soobin,” Beomgyu starts, words cut short with his sniffling frequency. He doesn’t budge to look up at him, and Soobin just responds with a linear <em> hm? </em>at the back of his throat. </p><p>“Can you do me a favour?” Speaks the shorter, head still pressed against his chest. Soobin stills, puzzled at the sudden inquiry, but nonetheless relents, “Sure. What of?”</p><p>“Can you give me a hug?”</p><p>
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</p><p>It isn’t like Soobin to be sentimental. </p><p>You see, it isn’t within his forte to be emotionally adept; if anything, he’s quite dysfunctional when it comes to getting in touch with his feelings, much less trying to express it.</p><p>So, he doesn’t understand why the sight of a weeping Beomgyu against his chest, asking him for a hug, makes his heart tighten. Makes a lump form in his throat. </p><p>He doesn’t understand why seeing Beomgyu feeling bad also makes <em> him </em> feel bad—you only show empathy to those you care about, right? </p><p>Since when has he cared for the younger? </p><p>After a few moments of unbearable silence, with Beomgyu’s question still hung heavily in the air, Soobin has made a decision. Alas, they’ve done more than hugging. He supposes he can grant Beomgyu this favour. </p><p>The next instant, big hands wrap about the younger, collecting his shaken frame into a tight embrace. Soobin’s arms have always been strong, and as they wrap around his waist, resting on his back with a gentle pack, Beomgyu also learns that they are surprisingly warm. </p><p>The feeling of security coils around his body, shrouding him like a safety blanket. Beomgyu deeply exhales, clutching onto the cotton material of Soobin’s shirt, clamped fists wobbling. </p><p>For the first time since he hung up on the call, Beomgyu’s heart finally slows from a frenzy into a calmed still. </p><p>As his sobs grow louder, he hears Soobin gently cooing against his ears, tucking his head underneath his chin and tightening his hold. Now there’s no space to spare between their bodies, Beomgyu’s chest pressed flush against Soobin’s strong one. </p><p>It’s like all Soobin has to do is reach out, grab a hold of him, and suddenly the storm that threatens to launch him up into the sky nulls, pulling him back onto the ground, anchoring him. </p><p>He knows that now is not the time, but as they continue to stand engulfed in each other, Beomgyu can faintly feel the material of his sweatpants growing heavy from being soaked. He feels it also transferring to Soobin’s, and thus tries to pull away to avoid getting him wet. </p><p>The older makes his stance clear when he ushers him back in, locking him tight in between his arms. The uncomfortable sensation of being wet makes guilt spike in his chest, but it’s as if Soobin can read his mind, because he speaks up as soon as the thought conceives itself in his head. </p><p>“Don’t worry about me being wet. Worry about you breathing properly.”</p><p>In the past six months he’s had the misfortune of being stuck in Soobin’s presence, oddly enough, this is the first time Beomgyu’s grateful for it. </p><p>He mutters a small <em> thank you </em> against Soobin’s chest, hoping the words are muffled into nonexistence against the fabric, buries his nose into as reinforcement. </p><p>It’s almost like he can hear Soobin smile when he responds again without fail, “You’re very welcome. Cry it all out so I won’t have to cover for you later when we go back.”</p><p>Beomgyu lets out a mirthless chuckle between his choked breaths, Soobin’s teasing somehow making him feel lighter. Perhaps that’s what he needs, a distraction. </p><p>So, he tries to distract himself. Tries to focus on the steady rise and fall of Soobin’s chest against his cheek. Tries to listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath his ear, tries to focus on large hands patting his lower back, thumb stroking a spot on his hip bone. </p><p>Beomgyu feels his head clear. Seems like it’s working. </p><p>“Also, where did your shoes go?” Says the elder, a long moment after the silence begins to grow awkward. </p><p>Beomgyu’s sobs have now subsided into tiny hiccups, and yet Soobin still refuses to let go. They stand by the shore, feet rooted into the sand, the merciless wind making their wet bottoms feel all the more shivery. Nevertheless, Beomgyu couldn’t care less. “I think the ocean swallowed them.”</p><p>Then comes Soobin’s signature annoyed sigh. It finally seems like they’re going back to normalcy. “You dropped them in the water?”</p><p>Beomgyu retaliates at his condescending tone with a grunt. “I can walk home barefoot. They’re just sandals.”</p><p>The older replies with a click of his tongue, “And I have to sit through your monologue of complaints about how much your feet hurt the next morning? What if you ask me to rub them for you?”</p><p>Now, Soobin’s just being dramatic. There’s no way he’s that cruel. “Stop it! Am I really that bad?” He exclaims, finally pulling back just so he can meet Soobin’s amused eyes with his annoyed ones. </p><p>“Oh, you have no idea. Welcome to a day in my life.” Chuckles the taller, arms retreating from Beomgyu’s waist as he takes a step back. The next time the breeze blows past, Beomgyu feels significantly colder. </p><p>When he speaks again, although he seems to try and hide it, the tone of concern in his voice is easily distinguishable. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p><p>Beomgyu blanks, remembers the fresh stab of pain from Taehyun’s eyes through his phone screen and the hickey that started it all. He doesn’t want to drag him in and play the blame game on Soobin as well. “No.”</p><p>Soobin gives him an unreadable look, but presses no further. “Anyway, are you done being emo? Can we head back?”</p><p>“Only if you promise me to <em> never </em> tease me about this for the rest of your life,” The younger retorts, rushing to catch up to the taller male who’s already started walking. “I’m serious! Swear on your heart.”</p><p>“On my heart? There’s nothing in it,” He turns back to give Beomgyu a haughty look, and the shorter growls in annoyance. They are not leaving this beach until he makes sure his tarnished dignity is to be buried in these very sands. No one else needs to know he cried like a baby. “Fine, fine. I swear.”</p><p>“Good,” Once satisfied, Beomgyu grins in contentment, sauntering his way to the concrete stairs of the beach entrance. Now he can return to pretending to be normal, slipping that mask right back on. </p><p>He’s too busy trying to internally console himself that he doesn’t notice Soobin hasn’t been following him. He doesn’t notice until he’s taken a few steps ahead, only to be yanked back by a forceful grip on his wrist. </p><p>Beomgyu clicks his tongue in annoyance when he whips back to face the elder. “Now what? Want me to attend another early Zoom me—”</p><p>“Where do you think you’re going like that?” Says Soobin, tone flat before he throws Beomgyu back, making the latter stand behind him. The younger is forced to cooperate with a perplexed look on his face. </p><p>Soobin doesn’t let go, doesn’t say a word as he crouches down in front of him and pulls his legs around his waist. He remains silent as he hoists him up on his back by his grip on his lower thighs. He still remains silent as Beomgyu yelps at suddenly being launched into the air, panicked hands grappling at his shoulders and looping around his neck. </p><p>“Asshole, what are you doing? Put me down! I can walk!” Shrieks the younger male once he registers that Soobin just picked him up into a piggy back. Has he not suffered enough embarrassment for one night? “I’m not a child!” </p><p>“Then stop acting like one,” Bites back Soobin, groaning at the little fists thrown at his shoulders. “Stop it, God. I just don’t want to hear you nag my ears off or give you a foot massage later on.” He shuts him down by plopping him up, shifting him, reinforcing his grip on his thighs, subsequently stopping Beomgyu from squirming out of his hold. </p><p>They descend the stairs and soon leave the beach behind, crossing the barren streets and advancing up the hill back to their mansion. </p><p>Once Beomgyu realises Soobin’s benign intentions, he quiets down, letting the older carry him in silence. He just hopes Soobin isn’t expecting him to return this favour in some way. </p><p>The longer time passes between them, the more Beomgyu notices his sweatpants leaving patches of wet stains against Soobin’s sides, now seeping into his shirt. It is as uncomfortable for Beomgyu as it is for Soobin, and the former’s pretty sure that he is well aware of that.</p><p>But even with that, Soobin still chooses to carry him, all because he’s lost his shoes. How romantic.</p><p>Beomgyu has to bite back a small smile that creeps up on his face upon realisation. He never knew that such an aloof guy like him would also have tender sides like anybody else. </p><p>Even with the chill of the night breeze following their trail, Beomgyu feels warmth concoct in his chest. The same strange, unfamiliar warmth from their baking session that is not only pleasant but soothing. The silence that envelops them along their journey begins to feel comfortable, with Beomgyu letting his hands wrap around Soobin’s neck, slowly resting his chin on his shoulder. </p><p>Now, with their cheeks a hair’s width from touching, Beomgyu can properly take in the detail of Soobin’s side profile. </p><p>His eyelashes look longer up close. They flutter as Soobin blinks, curly at the ends. His nose is sharper from this point of view, a flawless slope accented with the crease at the tip, and something about it strikes Beomgyu as oddly cute. The cupid’s bow of Soobin’s lips are perkier from this angle, bottom lip slightly jutting out even in his neutral expression. His brows are perfectly arched, thickening at the ends that looks intimidating whenever he furrows them. Now, they’re laid neutral on his face, and his usual austere aura thus dissipates.</p><p>Even up close, Beomgyu can barely spot any imperfections on his face, the visual of his features remaining breathtaking—Beomgyu may not like him, but he will still give it to Soobin that he’s one hell of a good looking man—even under the dim lighting of the moon. What Beomgyu used to label as a resting bitch face looks more like an adorable bunny up close, and Beomgyu’s ghost of a smile widens across his face. </p><p>Right now, Choi Soobin, president of Choi Group and future Korea’s youngest CEO, looks like just another average person. The more Beomgyu continues to observe his side profile, the more he looks… humane. </p><p>What was once perceived to him as a distant, unapproachable face now looks like a man he’s known all his life. It’s a weird epiphany that Beomgyu suddenly experiences, the sense of closeness and kinship—all of which Beomgyu has never once associated with Soobin—bursting like a broken dam inside him, all of them demanding to be acknowledged. </p><p>If Soobin notices him staring, he pretends not to. He doesn’t blink, eyes never once straying from the path ahead of him. Beomgyu can finally see the familiar view of the gates creeping up into their line of vision. They’re almost home.</p><p>At that moment, something unidentifiable takes over Beomgyu. He doesn’t remember speaking up, but the voice that cuts through the silence could be none other than his own when it calls, “Hyung.”</p><p>The gravity of the address is so great that it makes the taller instantly halt in his tracks, eyes widening, blinking rapidly. Beomgyu watches. Once. Twice. Then, they shift, along with Soobin’s head as he turns to Beomgyu, their noses almost touching. </p><p>Then, silence, until Beomgyu remembers to follow up from his embarrassing blurt. “Can I call you hyung?”</p><p>He doesn’t know if it’s the poor lighting that deceives him or if he’s hallucinated it—the appearance of Soobin’s dimple creasing his cheek as he smiles. “I’m only three months older, but sure.”</p><p>As they make it to the gates, past the security guards, Beomgyu can only hold onto the absurdity of one thought.</p><p>It takes him no time to get comfortable with Yeonjun, addressing him as ‘hyung’ as soon as their first encounter ends. Yet, why does it feel oddly intimate to call Soobin as such—something friendly and informal, which shouldn’t be a surprise from someone who’s shared the same roof with him for half a year? </p><p>Why does his heart pick up in his chest as they ascend to the mansion courtyard—Soobin’s grip still firm and secure on his thighs, strong shoulders cradling his chin, twinkling eyes turning to meet his? </p><p>“Does that mean we’re friends now?” Asks Beomgyu, a quiet voice whispering against Soobin’s ear, tone so soft it almost feels affectionate. </p><p>Soobin’s smile widens until it reaches his eyes. Beomgyu watches the way his dimples deepen until another one appears right next to it, feeling a single butterfly take flight in his stomach.</p><p>“Sure, we’re friends.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>30k words and we're just seeing progress... this fic may be longer than i've anticipated. see you in a week! (fr this time I SWEAR)</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/prodbeomjun">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/soobivert">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. you all over me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a bit shorter than usual, but a lot goes on so rest assured. the content makes up for the lack of length (hopefully!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Beomgyu wakes up with the worst cold of his life. </p><p>Throughout last night’s events, he doesn’t remember getting a fever. He barely recalls shivering as he makes his way back inside the mansion, quickly getting undressed and hopping in for a warm shower like his mental stability depends on it (it did, at the time). </p><p>He <em> does </em> remember crawling into the sheets, clinging to the edge of the bed to put as much distance between himself and Soobin as he could—with the other unsurprisingly doing the same—curling like a foetus to huddle for warmth. (He doesn’t remember why he needed more warmth when the heater was already on.)</p><p>Then, he remembers waking up dizzy with a nasty headache like he’s downed two bottles of wine. He remembers the ceiling spinning out of dimension when he opens his eyes; a concerned, scorching hot palm pressed to his forehead (why was it so hot?) then a distant, oddly distorted <em> are you okay? </em> whispered by the shell of his ear. </p><p>By the time his head finally frees itself of the gnarly migraine, he sits up to the sight of his mothers—all three of them, two authentic and one impromptu—at the foot of his bed, staring down at him with concerned looks and eyes the size of an owl’s.</p><p>Then comes the barrage of questions. </p><p>“My dearest, why did you go out so late in the cold? And stayed in the water no less? What’s gotten into you?” Shrieks his mother, rushing to his side and resting the back of her palm against the cooling gel to his forehead. Only now does he realise he has a cooling gel on his forehead. “Soobin spent hours trying to find you. What if he got there late? You could have caught hypothermia! The sea is really cold at night!—” </p><p>“Mina, don’t scold the poor boy. He’s just woken up.” </p><p>A calmer, softer voice resounds from his right. Beomgyu recognises it as Soobin’s mother, turning to meet her usually gentle gaze now regarding him with alarming concern. Her voice still retains its usual sweetness when she speaks again, “Our Beomgyu is smart, I’m sure he’s had his reasons. The most important thing is his health. How are you feeling, sweetheart?” </p><p>Perhaps it’s the in-law complex, or perhaps it’s his need for being coddled while sick; but Soobin’s mother is climbing up the leaderboard rankings in his heart. “Alright, mother. Thank you for your worries, but I assure you I’m fine.” </p><p>As soon as he finishes, a fourth voice speaks, followed by a pointed look in his direction. It’s his impromptu mother. </p><p>“Lies,” says a booming voice from right beside him, and Beomgyu almost jolts in surprise. He hasn’t noticed the presence of another person on the bed until now (since when did Soobin climb up? He was on the chair by the bedside a moment ago). Meeting the other’s scrutinising gaze almost makes him want to shrink. </p><p>“You woke me up before dawn because you were wheezing in your sleep. I checked your skin and it was burning hot. You are not fine.” </p><p>Now he doesn’t have to uncover his lies like that. The younger can only stare at Soobin, perplexed at the crossed look on his face. At this point, he can no longer tell whether or not he was feigning it to commit to his role as a concerned husband—or if he’s actually concerned. Art imitates life. (Or is it the other way around?) </p><p>“Listen to your husband,” Beomgyu’s mother speaks up, a worried hand reaching up to squeeze his forearms. He hasn’t noticed how Soobin is pressed right beside him, also sat up against the headboard, a hand snugly wrapped around his shoulder. “He woke up shuffling at the crack of sunrise, asking the maids to look for medicines everywhere. You mustn’t trouble him so much now, Gyu-yah.” </p><p>At this, Beomgyu’s eyes round up in surprise, turning to meet Soobin’s flabbergasted ones. He holds his stare for a moment longer, as if silently trying to convey <em> did you really? </em> </p><p>The way the older looks away and clears his throat can only mean one thing. </p><p>Something knotted in Beomgyu’s chest suddenly soothes, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his lips. “He did? How caring,” mumbles the younger, leaning in to press a quick peck to Soobin’s cheek. He does it more out of obligation than will, but he still enjoys putting up the act just to make the other suffer. “Thank you, baby.”</p><p>The split-second of surprise that glints in Soobin’s eyes each time they share kisses never fails to amuse Beomgyu. It never gets old. Free source of entertainment for him, all year round.</p><p>“How can I not? What would I do if anything happens to you?” He replies, hand retracting from Beomgyu’s shoulder to stroke the back of his head. “Rest up more, I’ll have the maids deliver breakfast to your bedside. Take a break today, don’t worry about work.” </p><p>Beomgyu internally buzzes in glee. Perhaps drenching himself in water isn’t that bad after all, if it means he gets to transfer his part of the workload to Soobin. Something about it makes him want to hop up and down on the bed like an excited child. He hasn’t procrastinated in a long, long time. </p><p>“He’s right. We’ll leave you to rest now, but should anything happen, just know we’re always around. Okay?” As she stands up, Soobin’s mother leans in to press a subtle kiss to the top of his head. Beomgyu beams, happily nodding. </p><p>“If you feel better by the end of the day to join us for dinner, I’ll make some hotpot. Your favourite.” Says his mother as she gives the tip of his nose a gentle pinch. Beomgyu reflexively scrunches it right after. “Of course. It’s nothing serious! Thank you, mothers.” </p><p>With a little bit more of chit chatting and Soobin passively seeing them out, they finally exit the room, leaving the two males now to their own devices.</p><p>When alone, Soobin finally closes the door with a sigh, approaching Beomgyu again once they’re the only two left. “I can’t believe your stupidity got you sick. Now I have to call your secretary in your stead.” </p><p>The three-sixty Soobin does between when their mothers are around versus when they aren’t always does Beomgyu in. So golden, haven’t lost its charm since the first time. </p><p>He lets out a dry laughter, leaning back against the pillow propped behind his spine. “Did I really wheeze in my sleep last night?” </p><p>He half-expects Soobin to chuckle and tell him it’s a lie he bluffed up just to make his concern believable. He doesn’t expect him to actually agree. </p><p>“That’s only an aspect of it. You’ve never stopped sleep-talking ever since we got here.” Replies the taller, grabbing his tablet and settling back onto his side of the bed. </p><p>What he says next makes Beomgyu pale. “But last night, I woke up because I heard you crying.”</p><p>Beomgyu’s thankful he hasn’t picked up the cup of warm tea by his nightstand, because he’s sure he would have spat it out. “I was what?” </p><p>Soobin doesn’t reply, doesn’t even meet his eyes. There’s no snarky grin or crude remarks to accompany his teasing whenever he does make one, and Beomgyu’s heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. He’s serious. </p><p>“I know you said no last night, but in case you have a change of heart, I’m here to listen. If you still want to talk about it,” says the other male, voice void of expression as he puts his reading glasses on. </p><p>Beomgyu isn’t the type to need reassurance or words of affirmation. It’s not that he doesn’t like opening up; it’s just he doesn’t know what to say. Where would he even begin? </p><p>Nonetheless, something about the way Soobin offers to listen, expecting him not to talk at all, makes him want to contradict it. </p><p>“Hyung,” subtly, Beomgyu says, propping himself against the back pillow. He turns to the male in question who hums and looks up to meet his gaze. “Have you and Yeonjun-hyung ever fought? About, you know, all of this? The weird, stupid arrangement of it all?”</p><p>There’s a heartbeat of silence as Soobin doesn’t respond, adjusting the reading glasses on his nose. “Is that what happened last night?” </p><p>He finds his answer in the way Beomgyu’s shoulders visibly slump, avoiding his eyes. Fiar. Without missing a beat, he continues. </p><p>“I wouldn’t call it a fight, but we’ve had some… collision of words, from time to time.” The older starts, eyes staring off at an unimportant spot on the opposite wall. Reminiscing. “There are times when we get frustrated by the circumstances of our situations. Yeonjun-hyung would whine about how he’s not lucky enough to be with me of his own right. He’s considered giving up his career just to go public, says that he has nothing to work for if we can’t be together anyway. I’m the one who would hold him back, tell him how silly he is and urge him to keep pursuing his dreams.</p><p>“Sometimes he’d joke about how he has two dreams; one he chose to chase, and one he chose to leave behind. He’d say he wished he chose to chase after me instead.” Soobin pauses briefly, a little huff coming out of him. Whether it’s out of amusement or melancholy, Beomgyu can’t quite tell. “But, this is what we mutually agreed to, you see. We got into this situation together, so we both know we can’t do anything but persevere at a time like this. I’m just lucky he’s understanding.” </p><p>“He sounds like a dream,” sighs Beomgyu, sinking into the sheets and resting his head against the bedpost. “No wonder he’s the only person you’ve ever dated. I wouldn’t want anyone else if I were as lucky as you are.”</p><p>“What are you saying? Isn’t Taehyun an absolute angel?” Refutes Soobin, looking at him with mildly concealed surprise. </p><p>Now that is a difficult question to answer. Beomgyu decides to just tell it like it is, eyes zeroing out on the glistening chandelier above him. “It’s because he is that makes it so hard.”</p><p>He hears some subtle rustling as Soobin scoots, and the next time he hears his voice again, the male sounds significantly closer. “How so?”</p><p>“Unlike you, I’m not deserving of someone so good to me. And now that we’re here, all I’ve done is prove time and time again how true that statement is.” The younger softly speaks, tone dry, eyes drifting to a close as another sigh heaves out of his lips. “He’s been nothing but good to me, and I’ve done nothing but neglect him.”</p><p>“And does he see you the same way you see yourself?” </p><p>“It’s hard to say, but I imagine the thought of me doesn’t spark joy within him as of right now.” Replies Beomgyu, words of last night’s conversation circulating back to taunt his mind. His nose scrunches at the memory, still sharp and hurtful as it was hours ago. “He says ever since we got married, I’ve given you more attention than I do him. The worst part is he isn’t even wrong.”</p><p>Soobin is quick to refute, “That’s because I’m a big part of your work life, no? It doesn’t take a genius to know you put work above everything else. It’s not a good combination that I’m also your legal spouse.”</p><p>“That, too. I feel awful, because work really <em> has </em> been hectic since the merge. I also don’t particularly enjoy seeing your face the most either.” He shifts his head, vengefully staring into a pair of dragon-shaped eyes that crinkle in amusement upon meeting his. “But no matter how I look at it, my reason just sounds like a petty excuse. No wonder Taehyun’s mad at me.”</p><p>He leaves out the catharsis of the story—the part about the hickey, not wanting Soobin to feel any of  the second-hand guilt—although he doubts the man would have any to spare. Still, this is a matter of private affairs which consists of only him and Taehyun, and therefore it’s theirs alone to solve. Soobin doesn’t need to know that.</p><p>What Soobin also doesn’t need to know, is the strike to Beomgyu’s conscience upon realising that he isn’t even mad at him for it. Shame flares up in his chest when he remembers how he too played a hand in the making of it; he had all the right to ask him to stop. They definitely didn’t have to go that far for a mere act. </p><p>But they did, because Beomgyu willfully allowed him. That’s where he went wrong, and he knows now that he deserves everything Taehyun has said to him. </p><p>“You know, there’s a saying that goes: you can never be too busy for someone you love.” The older speaks up a moment after, pushing himself up with a hand cradling the side of his head. He turns to his side, faces Beomgyu with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I think you out of all people need that reminder. What do you love more? The prince, or the vice president title?”</p><p>Beomgyu feels challenged by the ridiculous question, thus leaning up and mirroring Soobin’s pose. His brows furrow, an accusatory look on his face. Challenging; something Soobin sees more than his own reflection in the mirror. “What do you mean? Of course it’s him. I’m not a bastard.”</p><p>Soobin’s brow raises just in time as Beomgyu finishes, as if mocking him. He really can’t stand this guy. “And what have you done so far to contradict that?”</p><p>Beomgyu goes silent. </p><p>Soobin lets out a humourless chuckle, his free hand pressing a knuckle onto Beomgyu’s forehead. “You child. How do you think people fall in love?”</p><p>Beomgyu’s eyes widen, a surprised noise emitting from the back of his throat. It’s an odd question, especially not one he’d expect from someone as austere as Choi Soobin. What does someone like him know about love, much less to lecture him on it? “First of all, I’m not a child. We’re three months apart. Second, tell me then since you seem to be such an expert?”</p><p>Soobin’s face falls with a knot of his brows, unimpressed. “I don’t need to be an expert at love to know what it is. It’s when two people spend so much time together that their hearts merge to become two halves of a whole. Something like that.” </p><p>“How poetic,” responds Beomgyu, eyes narrowing. This is the last type of conversation he can imagine having with Soobin. So he’ll entertain him a moment longer.</p><p>“And in order to stay in love, they have to ensure that no distance can separate that connection in their hearts.” Soobin points an index to his own chest, taps the space right above where his heart is. “It’s something so fleeting that can come and go with just a shift of circumstances. You need to know how to nurture that connection, make sure the physical distance never infiltrates your hearts.</p><p>“The most important thing is to spare time to spend with the people you love, no matter what. Mother told me this since I was small. That’s why both Yeonjun hyung and I always try to make time for each other—because every second you spend with them counts.” </p><p>Soobin sits up as soon as he finishes with his little monologue, turning to give Beomgyu one more wistful look before leaving the bed. </p><p>But not before his words tail around Beomgyu’s consciousness, continuing to haunt him for countless sleepless nights to come. </p><p>“When was the last time it counted for you?”</p><p>
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</p><p>And as the prophecy goes, Beomgyu’s fever really alleviates by the time the sun goes down. </p><p>He exits the room to join the rest of his family for dinner, a particularly gleeful mother greeting him with a hug on sight. Perhaps after such a distraught night, a day of rest is really what he needs. </p><p>But why does his mind still feel just as restless, if not more troubled than it was before? </p><p>Even surrounded by candlelit meals and warm laughters, only a certain image swims in his mind—blond hair, wide eyes, bright smile. The smell of sandalwood cologne he always nuzzles his nose into at the end of an exhausting day. </p><p>Soobin’s words from this morning continue to ring through his brain, like a nagging thought that never ceases. <em> When was the last time it counted for you? </em></p><p>It shouldn’t be as hard as it is for him to remember. Taehyun and him shared many fond memories. Skipping lectures to make out in the janitor’s closet. Sneaking into Taehyun’s luxurious private dormitory on the prohibited side of the campus. Stealing chaste kisses behind closed curtains and dim lights on the graduation stage. Giggly phone calls. Kissing each other’s smiles. Tracing fingertips along the side of his neck. Counting the barely visible moles on his face. Mapping the lines of his palms with his lips. Planning their future under the swarovski chandelier and the influence of white wine. Slow dancing in the dark. Getting lost in his eyes. <em> His </em> Taehyun’s eyes that always outshines every dying star in the sky. </p><p>What changed? </p><p>Throughout the rest of the dinner, Beomgyu operates on auto-pilot; he laughs half-heartedly when he hears others laughing, offering bland responses whenever someone tries to include him in a conversation; picks at his food and occasionally remembers to put it in his mouth lest he gets questioned and raises concerns again. </p><p>(As he finishes up the content of his plate, their mothers’ chatter entering through one ear and exiting from the other, Beomgyu doesn’t notice the indecipherable look from across the dining table.)</p><p>Taehyun’s voice continues to circulate like an unending echo across all senses of his body. A voice that used to bring him ultimate warmth and comfort now sounds as daunting as a manifested nightmare.</p><p><em> Why do I feel like I have to compete with him for your love, when it’s not even supposed to be a competition in the first place? Who </em> is <em> exactly your partner, Choi Beomgyu?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Later on, they retreat to their own chambers, with their mothers kissing them Goodnight on the cheeks like they were still children. It normally makes Beomgyu beam in glee, but now he barely feels his mother’s lips pressing against his forehead. </p><p>Beomgyu chooses to stay out of their room, sitting on a stool at the mini-bar by the kitchen area. He’s spent enough time in it, feeling mildly claustrophobic at the thought of staying in it for another second just for his brain to eat itself up. </p><p>Maybe now would also be a good time to give Soobin some privacy. Unlike him, he might need some alone time to call his boyfriend. Beomgyu chuckles without mirth at the thought of calling his own boyfriend. </p><p>The male sits alone at the obsidian counter, twirling aimlessly in his stool, the sizable cup of wine churning in his hold. Next to him stands a half-empty wine bottle, with handwritten stickers as ingredient labels and a sketchy doodle as the logo. If his thoughts aren’t going to slow down anytime soon, he figures he might as well put them to good use. </p><p>He’s using the sample tasting as an excuse to drink his woefulness away. Two birds in one stone. </p><p>The mansion is quiet; all the maids are excused to their quarters. He watches through the large window to his side as security guards patrol through the courtyard. The night sky is surprisingly vacant, with barely any glistening winks of stars joining his company. At least it’s a full moon tonight. </p><p>“You’re going to finish the entire bottle by yourself if you don’t stop.” </p><p>A voice slices through the serene silence. Beomgyu doesn’t have to turn to know who it is, the sound of the next stool dipping and creaking in weight. “You look miserable.”</p><p>Beomgyu grunts lowly, taking another sip of his wine before eyeing a nonchalant Soobin. He’s not in the mood for banter. “I also feel the part.”</p><p>Soobin doesn’t spare him another glance, choosing to respond by pulling a glass out for himself and filling it with the same liquor. “This is the second sample. Just got it this morning after they adjusted it from our feedback.” In typical Soobin nature, he wastes no time to get down to business, drinking said wine himself. “Tasted anything different?”</p><p>Beomgyu hums, sets the glass down and props a hand underneath his chin. One thing they’re always amiable at is talking about work, so perhaps this is the distraction he needs. Maybe he owes Soobin one for that. “Did they amp up the grapes? It’s stronger. The aroma is also richer, but the alcohol stings a bit too much for my liking at first.”</p><p>“It also burns the back of your throat for a bit in the aftertaste,” adds Soobin, swirling the burgundy liquid in his glass. Watching him manoeuvre the content into a perfect looping lasso is almost too satisfying. That’s how you know someone’s a true wine connoisseur. </p><p>A few seconds of awkward silence drapes over the kitchen area as Beomgyu doesn’t reply, staring off into the distance. </p><p>Soobin has to speak again to break it. “It’s late, aren’t you going to bed?”</p><p>“I’ve spent enough time in it today,” responds Beomgyu, mindlessly tapping his fingers against the side of the glass. The soft, rhythmatic clinks are the only sounds heard between them until Beomgyu continues. “And I don’t think I’d be able to sleep either way.”</p><p>“So you’ve decided to wallow in despair and drink the night away like a hopeless, middle-aged young adult you are?”</p><p>“Would you rather I storm out of the house MTV-style again?” There’s no mirth in Beomgyu’s chuckle as he responds. When the older doesn’t answer from his end of the banter, Beomgyu’s led into peering at him out of curiosity. </p><p>Soobin’s eyes glint with an indiscernible look. It resembles something akin to concern, and it gets under his nerves much more than it has reasons to. Why does being worried about makes him feel so hostile? Especially Choi Soobin out of all people? </p><p>“You have until the remainder of this night to prolong your doleful agenda. Tomorrow, we’re going back to working.” </p><p>Beomgyu takes it back that Soobin may be worried about him. This man has a black hole as his heart. </p><p>“How incredibly caring,” he deadpans, lips twisting into a pretended grimace. “Do you expect me to cry my heart out to you?”</p><p>Soobin’s response is surprisingly dry and dead serious, “Would that help you feel better?”</p><p>Beomgyu has to pause under the older’s peering gaze, pondering briefly at the thought. He can probably count the amount of times he’s cried in his entire lifetime on one hand. Choi Soobin has already been a witness of it once. </p><p>If history repeats again, Soobin would have seen too much that he’ll have to kill him off for the sake of his dignity. Even his mother has only seen him cry once, and that was the first time he fell off a bike at the age of six.</p><p>Yet, he toys with the idea, the sore ache exponentially welling up inside his chest. “If you hold it in, it’s going to stay with you forever. Best to let it out of your system while you still can.”</p><p>Beomgyu swallows. He isn’t very good at handling his emotions—that’s an archaeologically known fact. He tries to quantify them through logic, boxing everything into rational categories, only doing what he thinks makes sense. </p><p>He hates that what Soobin just said makes sense. </p><p>He doesn’t know his hands were trembling until the older grabs a hold of them, engulfing them with his, holds them steady. “You already made me swear on my heart that I wouldn’t make fun of you, right? Let go of that stubbornness now,” Soobin’s voice drips with weight, tone serious. “Just so I don’t have to wake up to you crying again.” </p><p>The gaze he holds is piercing, like it’s staring past all of Beomgyu’s barricades he’s spent years building. “You said it yourself,” There’s a hidden glint behind those dark orbs as they seize him down, reducing the forte around his soul into a barren war camp. “We’re friends now, aren’t we?”</p><p><em> Friends</em>, Beomgyu stills, the word echoing through all the crevices of his mind. Maybe that’s what he needs right now; a friend. </p><p>There’s a minute pause as he doesn’t respond, and neither of them says anything. Soobin continues to look at him, as if waiting for the dam to break. </p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, doing his best to hold the dilapidated dam together. Yet, slowly but surely, it breaks nonetheless. </p><p>It hits him as a small lump at the back of Beomgyu’s throat, making him sniffle. Then it grows, doubles in weight until it pulls his body down, drawing him out of his stool and crashing right into the older’s chest. </p><p>It’s so easy for him to shatter under the invitation of Soobin’s words, letting himself go until he doesn’t recognise the choked noises spilling from his mouth. He doesn’t know he started crying until long, suffocating sobs draw themselves out of his chest, making him struggle to breathe. Soobin’s comforting hands around his frame anchors him, cobalt blue silk of his night robe muffling his uneven wails. </p><p>For the entire day, every intrusive thought Beomgyu has had comes in the form of a yarn. In his head, his arms are outstretched, two needles in his grasp as he tries to make sense of them, knitting each string that comes into a weave. It’s pitiful how he still operates through his turmoils with the spirit of a businessman: thinking he has to gain something out of it somehow, or else it isn’t fair trade. The rule of bargaining: no losses should go without a gain.  </p><p>Little does he know, the strings continue to invade him, overwhelming his senses until his needles are stuck intertwined; until it piles into a ball of tangled yarn, lodging his throat and stealing his breaths, until Beomgyu miserably fails to untangle himself from its entrapment. </p><p>But it’s so easy for Soobin to coax the tangled strands out of him, tugging until the ball of yarn unravels into a single, linear thread. </p><p>Somewhere between his meltdown, he’s obscurely aware of Soobin’s hand patting the small of his back, chin resting on the crown of his head. He appreciates how Soobin says nothing, just offering his mere presence as consolation. It’s enough for someone like Beomgyu, who doesn’t like depending on anyone but himself for solidity. </p><p>(What he isn’t aware of is how his sobs triple in volume, unrelenting, until Soobin hears the creak of a door from down the hallway and has to shush him. Their mothers can’t see them like this.)</p><p>“Hey, look at me,” comes Soobin’s soft whispers, retreating just to cup Beomgyu’s tear streaked face in his palms. He watches from the corner of his periphery as a shadowy figure peeks out into the hallway, seemingly out of concern from the crying. Soobin voices as much to the male in front of him, “I think our mums heard you.” </p><p>Beomgyu halts, trying to bite back his trembling lips and reaching up to wipe the tears off his cheek. “Really? Then should I—?” </p><p>Soobin already beats him to it, thumbs swiping across his cheekbone with a subtle smile. Why does he smile at him like that when their mothers couldn’t see it anyway? </p><p>He gently shakes his head, pulls his face closer until their foreheads meet. “It’s okay, cry to your heart’s content. I’ll take care of the rest.”</p><p>At first, Beomgyu fails to comprehend what Soobin means by ‘taking care of the rest’. </p><p>He hears the distant shuffling of footsteps from the hallway, signalling that there’s now another witness of Beomgyu’s fragile moment—yet somehow Soobin’s reassuring words continue to make the tears flow. </p><p>So he looks down, shakily inhales, and gives the older the benefit of the doubt. Even when the man in front of him may be a nuisance at times, Beomgyu knows that he can always trust him with one thing; being a man of his words. </p><p>His eyes flutter shut, damp eyelashes clumping from tears clinging around the corners. They descend in a freefall down Beomgyu’s cheeks. He does what Soobin wants him to do: cry it out of his system so he doesn’t have to hold it in anymore. Perhaps by the end of it all, he’ll really feel better. </p><p>If Soobin tells him to indulge, he might as well make himself at home. </p><p>By his lips, he hears the male whisper a hushed <em> don’t worry, she can’t see you </em>, thumbs catching each droplet of cascading tears, swiping them away. Beomgyu feels his raging heartbeat calm into a still inside his chest. Maybe he’ll  really let Soobin take care of the rest, however he chooses to do so. </p><p>He just doesn’t realise that it could entail soft lips pressing against his to swallow all of his broken weeps. </p><p>In a way, Soobin <em> was </em> a man of his words—because it does work, even at the cost of Beomgyu’s eyes bursting open in surprise. His cries quiet down, now for more reasons than one, each brush of delicate skin against his lips coaxing his raging storm into a quiet drizzle. </p><p>He’s almost embarrassed at how easily his entire body eases—tense, trembling shoulders giving way into a pliant slouch as Soobin gathers him onto his lap, entrapping him between the stool, the silk of Ralph Lauren nightwear, and the bar counter digging into his back. </p><p>His hold is still evermore gentle, and that’s what makes Beomgyu drown. Lips swimming in Soobin’s sea, crashing like delicate waves meeting the shore. For each bawl that bubbles from his chest, Soobin combats it with a deepening of his kiss; feathery light touches grazing Beomgyu’s lips like the soft butterfly wings, fluttering against his mouth. </p><p>It doesn’t take long for all the tied knots inside his body to unravel with a quiet sigh, in which Soobin easily drinks up. He kisses away each tear that flows past the corner of his lips; slowly, carefully, wiping his trails clean until Beomgyu feels like he hasn’t cried at all in the first place. </p><p>The lurch of churning storms give way into a soft hum, tame and tranquil at the base of his throat. Stuttering breaths finally meet their ends as his chest now steadily rises and falls. </p><p>He can vaguely sense Soobin’s heart pressed against his from their connected torsos, the unwavering rhythm of the older’s heartbeat lulling his until they fall into infallible synchrony. </p><p>When Soobin finally pulls away, Beomgyu doesn’t even remember being sad at all. “There, all better?”</p><p>There’s a ghost of a smile on the older’s lips as he nudges his nose against Beomgyu’s—a gesture that feels too intimate for his comfort, yet he oddly welcomes—staring at him with a weirdly fond gaze. </p><p>Beomgyu hums, licks his own lips, savours the remnants of Soobin still tingling his skin, electrical static dying into a comfortable buzz. The chaos of haywire beneath his veins diminishes into little firefly sparks behind his eyelids. “Mm, much better.”</p><p>Soobin nods once, and peers behind Beomgyu. The silhouette of a third person in the hallway is no longer there. “Good. Let’s go to bed.”</p><p>When he finally lets Beomgyu off, the latter almost trips over his own feet, suddenly forgetting how to stand. He feels like a toddler learning to balance the weight of his body for the first time. It’s humiliating how much effect the older has on his well-being alone, as showcased through the span of the last five minutes. His rationality doesn’t like it at all, yet his skin singsongs in a pleasant hum, seeming to say otherwise. Beomgyu doesn’t know which to believe.   </p><p>When he turns away while Soobin collects their glasses and puts them down by the sink, he doesn’t know how the tips of his ear are burning red. He doesn’t know that the olde’s poignantly staring at them, mirth in his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. </p><p>But Soobin says nothing, withholds the snide remark to himself as Beomgyu trudges down the hallway first, not waiting for him. </p><p>“Actually, there’s a difference.” </p><p>Soobin’s unsolicited voice makes Beomgyu stop in his tracks, slowly turning to regard him with a question lingering in his gaze. He waits for Soobin to continue. </p><p>The older does, but not before walking past him with naught twinkling in his eyes. He heads for their bedroom first, leaving Beomgyu dumbfounded in his spot. </p><p>“The aftertaste is sweeter from your lips.”</p><p>Beomgyu burns at his own words being spun and used against him. Damn Choi Soobin and his stupid wine connoisseur self. </p><p>
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</p><p>Not many people know about this, but Beomgyu has one fear. </p><p>Aside from losing Taehyun, not proving his competence at work, and pissing off his mother; Beomgyu only has one fear. One that’s tailed him from the early upbringing of adolescence all the way to his blooming adulthood. A fear he will probably never outlive, much to his displeasure for admitting it. </p><p>Tonight, like it couldn’t find a better timing, his fear visits him. </p><p>When Beomgyu jolts awake from his side of the queen bed, it was exactly 3:13AM. </p><p>At first, he attempts to shut it out, huddling back under the sheets, draping it over his head to drown away the noise. He squeezes his eyes shut and curls into a foetus position, tells himself it’s only scary because he allows it to be. </p><p>The noise doesn’t cease, growing closer with each ring. By the time it strikes again in a boisterous rumble, Beomgyu couldn’t help the reflexive shriek that tears out of his chest, shuddering uncontrollably like a frightened puppy. </p><p>When he feels a hand pull the sheets from his grasp, groggy eyes staring down at him, it was 3:15AM.</p><p>He hears Soobin’s sleep-laced voice first before he sees him. “What are you doing?”</p><p>The older croaks, grumbling at his slumber being interrupted from Beomgyu’s antics. Second strike now, two in row. If Beomgyu does it the third time tomorrow, he might as well kick him out of the room and let him sleep on the couch. He’ll worry about the divorce threats later. </p><p>The latter, even upon being questioned, still doesn’t budge from his huddled position. His eyes are still shut as tightly as ever, brows scrunched until they merge into one on his forehead, beads of cold sweat tainting his fringes. He answers Soobin with a low, shaky exhale. </p><p>Soobin entertains the split-second thought of knocking Beomgyu out just so he can go back to sleeping. </p><p>The older lays on his side, facing a vibrating Beomgyu, not awake enough to babysit the manchild for the nth time today. He’s just about to turn around and resume his slumber when the next roar tears through the sky; and suddenly said manchild is attached to his side at the speed of light. </p><p>The grip Beomgyu has on Soobin’s arm is so tight he almost winces from the feeling of his blood circulation being cut. That’s enough to eliminate any form of drowsiness clouding his senses; he’s wide awake alright.</p><p>As his vision clears, Soobin slowly blinks, catching the flash of blinding light from the balcony that drowns the room in a ghostly white. He hears the distant, avid splatter of raindrops clattering against the outside earth, then followed by an excruciating drum of a storm. </p><p>There’s a thunderstorm tonight. He doesn’t remember reading it in the forecast before going to bed. </p><p>He squirms in surprise when Beomgyu’s body convulses in time with the boisterous clap. He puts two and two together, then connects the dots. The realisation comes with a bewildered exclaim, “You’re afraid of thunder?”</p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t answer, letting his body do it for him by bunching into himself. </p><p>Soobin feels slightly bad for finding this revelation a little funny. Who would’ve known that Choi Beomgyu, nearing his mid-twenties, infamous corporate heir and future CEO would be terrified of something as petulant as thunder? </p><p>He bites his lips, looks away to stifle a laugh as if Beomgyu would be able to see it anyway. Alas, after  the initial irony ceases, it’s followed by a second thought. It also leads Soobin to another realisation: if Beomgyu has been afraid of thunder all along, how did he go through sleeping alone for the past six months? Or for his entire life, in fact? </p><p>Soobin’s mirth subsides into empathy before he wraps an arm around the younger’s quivering frame. The body in his hold briefly jerks at the skin contact.</p><p>He coos, gently squeezing his shoulder, voice so soft it almost gets drowned out by the deafening rain, “Don’t be afraid, Gyu-yah. I’m here.” </p><p>The fond abbreviation of his name makes Beomgyu temporarily lift his head. <em> Gyu-yah. </em> </p><p>Did Soobin just call him the exact way only his parents call him? </p><p>It stirs a familiar sensation of warmth in his chest, and for a moment, his body halts. Did he know about it through the way Beomgyu’s mum addresses him with enamour? Or was it a simple coincidence? “Call me that again.”</p><p>Soobin’s brows lift. “Gyu-yah? You like that?”</p><p>Beomgyu tries to bite back a gasp from the way Soobin sounds strangely like his dad when he says it. He nods his head a bit too earnestly. “My family calls me that when I was a child, whenever they want to praise m—”</p><p>His reminiscence is cut short when a flash of blinding white blinks past the curtains, sealing his words back into his throat with a petrified yelp. </p><p>After a delayed moment, the noise comes, and Beomgyu feels the ground giving way from beneath him as the entire room quakes. </p><p>But the next thing he knows, Soobin is all up in his space, chest bumping against his, long legs entwined into Beomgyu’s. Warm hands are now reaching up to cover both his ears, familiar eyes staring down at his with a look Beomgyu can’t decipher yet again. </p><p>In the poor lighting of the night, he watches Soobin’s lips part, words escaping them that Beomgyu can’t seem to hear. He makes an inquiring noise at the back of his throat. </p><p>Instead of lifting his hands from his ears, Soobin just inches closer like the genius he is—until his face is a finger’s length away from Beomgyu’s, close enough for him to decipher the muffled words through his covered ears.</p><p>He reads his lips, listens to the voice mixed with the distant rain in the background.</p><p>“Gyu-yah.”</p><p><em> Gyu-yah</em>, his mother would holler, voice carrying itself all the way from the kitchen to Beomgyu’s bedroom, ushering him down for lunch whenever she makes his favourite.</p><p><em> Gyu-yah</em>, his father would say, a proud smile on his face as he hands him his report card. He would extend his hand with an affectionate pat on his head, ruffling his hair. Beomgyu would beam, glowing like a shooting star under the attention. </p><p>“Gyu-yah,” Soobin now says, caressing the sides of his face, lips pursing into a line as he holds him close. His hands shift away from covering his ears, moving to rub circles into the back of his neck. Beomgyu feels himself involuntarily relax. “It’s fine, I’ve got you. Go back to sleep.”</p><p>Something about the glimmer in Soobin’s eyes when he smiles—a look used to be brimming with frivolity and mockery that fills him with annoyance; now fills him with comfort. </p><p>It’s as if he’s entranced, held captive beneath his soft gaze and softer hands. Everywhere their body touches leaves an electrifying spark under Beomgyu’s skin, and right now, being held like this, comforted like this—he’s reminded of his comfort in childhood; holding his father’s hand in one and his mother’s in the other, skipping through a field of lush green grass where happiness grows like vines in a grape yard. </p><p>The once deafening sound of heavy rain fades in his consciousness, now nothing more than filtered white noise as all of Beomgyu’s sense zero in on Soobin. He sees each face he’s ever found comfort in flitting past Soobin’s features, taking turns morphing like a forbidden technology opposite his eyes. </p><p>At first, he sees his dad, wrinkled eyes and wrinkled smile. Then, he sees his mum, rows of perfectly lined teeth, glistening skin that looks younger than she is. Next, he sees Hueningkai, his best friend and pillar; caramel blond streaks shielding his gaze, eyes lined with triple eyelids, a constellation of moles on his cheeks. </p><p>Then, he sees Taehyun—<em> his </em> Taehyun, blond hair soft and flawless that would melt under his touch, eyes clear like dew drops in a hot spring; nose sculpted by God’s greatest architect, love swimming in his smile like surging river currents. </p><p>
  <em> Gyu-yah. </em>
</p><p>He doesn’t know he’s staring. He doesn’t know he’s boring holes into Soobin’s eyes until they flutter, bewildered. He doesn’t know he’s staring at Soobin’s nose—the specific dent at the tip of it that Beomgyu weirdly fixates on—until it scrunches opposite his gaze. He doesn’t know he’s staring at hair sticking out in angles from his dark locks; until he sees his own hands in his field of vision, reaching in to smooth them back into place. </p><p>He doesn’t know he’s staring until a blink of white flash blinds his vision, making him instinctively curl into himself. He cards his hand through the male’s hair, initially blond streaks fading into dark brown the longer he looks at it. </p><p>He doesn’t know he’s staring at his lips until a familiar roar follows the light, tearing through the sky the same moment Beomgyu meets them with his own. </p><p>Soobin retracts in surprise at first, pulling back just in the slightest; hands slipping from Beomgyu’s neck. That’s almost enough for the younger to snap to his senses, wide eyes turning bashful and cheeks tinted crimson albeit the poor lighting. </p><p>Beomgyu would've realised the stupidity of his actions from being caught in the moment; would’ve realised that he accidentally kissed Soobin out of reverie, would’ve turned around and scooted to his side of the bed and go back to sleep. They wouldn’t have to be stuck in any form of awkward tension for the remainder of the night as long as the rain ceases and he’s able to go back to sleep. </p><p>If only. </p><p>If only the look of surprise doesn’t disappear from Soobin’s face as soon as it arrives. If only he isn’t as quick to regain his courage as he is to hesitate. </p><p>If only Soobin doesn’t pull him back in as soon as he pulls away, lips soft as the pillow behind Beomgyu’s head when they meet him again halfway. </p><p>If only Beomgyu knows better than to immediately kiss back despite his voice of conscience going off like a siren blare—arms looping around his neck like second nature, hauling Soobin in until he’s hovering on top of him. </p><p>If only the tug on his lower lip doesn’t make his eyes close in a pleased sigh, shielding him from another flash of white burning behind his eyelids. If only the feeling of hands sliding beneath his pajama shirt doesn’t do an excellent job at distracting him from another clap of thunder, Beomgyu’s body now writhing for a whole other reason. </p><p>If only he doesn’t tilt his head back when Soobin kisses a pathway down his throat, mapping his territory on his skin, mouthing his Adam’s apple the same time it bobs in a gulp. If only he doesn’t squeeze his waist in a way that makes Beomgyu jolt, nails digging into his hip bone, distracting him from his lips conceiving another bloom of red on the underside of his jaw. </p><p>The next time thunder raps through the rainstorm, flooding their bedroom in another wash of deadly white; Beomgyu only remembers hearing the sound of his own heart thrumming against his ribs, too deafeningly loud for him to register anything else. Soobin’s chest is pressed flush atop his, heartbeat frenzied enough to match his own, swallowing each intake of his breath until Beomgyu forgets his essential need for oxygen. </p><p>He doesn’t understand how his body refuses to obey the command of his mind, not stopping no matter how much he tells himself to. Each time Soobin breaks the kiss, Beomgyu dumbly chases his lips for another. It starts from the older on top of him until Beogyu’s the one straddling his waist, wandering hands drawing senseless patterns on his collarbone, following each trace of his fingers with an open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t remember if any were strong enough to leave a mark, yet doesn’t care when Soobin only responds by pulling him impossibly closer. </p><p>He blames it on the thunder for his attempts at pulling away becoming futile. It must be the air from the heavy rain, something laced in it that makes Beomgyu relish each time Soobin retreats only to dive back into him.</p><p>It’s the universe’s fault for making him light-headed, sense cloudy from being kissed silly; not even knowing when the rain’s stopped until the noise dies into a pleasant silence.</p><p>He blames it on the stars when Soobin finally retracts, hazy eyes searching his, pupils blown; lovely, dazed. He should have seen the red light when instead of pulling away and stammering from what just unfolded, the first thing they do is erupt into a fit of attuned chuckles. </p><p>He blames it on Soobin for letting him get too comfortable with the warmth he puts inside his chest, nuzzling into the older’s embrace until he doesn’t remember when he’s fallen asleep.  </p><p>When Beomgyu’s breaths steady into the sound of sleep beside him, the taller male buries his nose into the top of his head, eyes fluttering into a close just as the earliest signs of sunrise beams its way through the curtain cracks. </p><p>When he hears muffled noises of Beomgyu sleep-talking into his chest, body weakening from the onslaught of slumber, he catches a glimpse of the clock on the wall. It was 05:12AM.</p><p>If only the last thing Soobin registers before his consciousness dims isn’t the sound of his own name; whispered groggily against his heart. If only it doesn’t elicit a strange feeling of spring that makes him smile, to the ever-watching eyes of the universe and to himself. If only the reason why Beomgyu’s had a good night’s sleep for the first time in his life during a thunderstorm isn’t because of him.</p><p>If only.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>things.... are happening.... all of them... all at once...... it's going downhill from here i'm sorry </p><p> </p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/prodbeomjun">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/soobivert">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. epiphany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for being a day late to the update :'D nonetheless i hope you guys enjoy... i know i say this every time but a lot happens here </p><p>here are some songs you might want to listen to for context! </p><p><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/1Vk4yRsz0iBzDiZEoFMQyv?si=6_mT4_C7Rv-A_UtPI8nYuA">1</a> | <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/6XQHlsNu6so4PdglFkJQRJ?si=yPPgzU5CSQCndmkrCF_C5Q">2</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning, Beomgyu expects it to be awkward when he wakes up. </p><p>He expects at least some form of inquiring look from Soobin. Maybe, if he’s unlucky, a string of uncomfortable questions because <em>what the hell was that? </em>and <em>you know we’re only supposed to do the kissing when we have to pretend, right? </em></p><p>Beomgyu braces himself for some form of onslaught from Soobin as soon as his consciousness reaches him. He doesn’t open his eyes first, afraid to meet the piercing pair that would stare down at his; cold and scrutinising like the first time they met. He tries to stay as still as he could, not even daring to emit a sound, pretending he was still fast asleep when he hears shuffling from next to him.</p><p>His brows involuntarily quirk when he realises the shuffling is much closer than he’s expected. </p><p>“Stop playing dead, I know you’re awake,” says the dreaded voice that sounds like it’s coming from right above his head; rasping, still with the faintest hint of sleep. “Choi Beomgyu, are you a child? Do you still need a mother to wake you up?”</p><p>He feels a hand cup both sides of his cheek, and Beomgyu’s eyes burst open in record time, wriggling from his hold. “Okay, okay! Fine! I’m awake! So much ruckus in the morning and for what,” he curses under his breath, eyebrows scrunched in defence to brace himself for the ambush of teasing he knows Soobin would follow up with.</p><p>Instead, the hold on his cheek softens into a gentle grip, delicately giving his cheeks a squeeze before retreating. Soobin’s eyes glint with a hint of a smile. “Slept well?”</p><p>Beomgyu momentarily short-circuits, blinking like he just woke up in the wrong timeline. So, no teasing. He doesn’t know if he’s grateful for the lack of their usual banter, or more unsettled by Soobin’s hospitality. He decides it’s a questionable combination of both. “Yeah, quite.”</p><p>He lied. That was the best sleep he’s gotten on a thunderstorm night ever since he stopped sleeping with his parents. </p><p>But Soobin doesn’t need to know that. “Good. Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of thunder?” The male turns, propping himself with his elbow against the pillow as he leans on his side. All of his attention is diverted to a scrunched up Beomgyu beneath his gaze. </p><p>Too soon. How can he expect Choi Soobin to let him go without at least a minor interrogation? “Why should I? It’s not like you’d care, anyway. That’s not the type of relationship we have.” </p><p>Beomgyu refutes, trying to scoot further away from the male—has he been sleeping pressed to his side all this time?—only to have Soobin cage him in with a hand draped around his waist, pulling him back in. He reads that gesture as <em>you’re not going to escape this conversation by running</em>, and Beomgyu hates that one look from Soobin means he’s right. </p><p>“Waking up to you weeping and huddling to snuggle me is also not the type of relationship we have,” says Soobin, way too proud for Beomgyu’s liking, “And let’s not forget to mention the fact that you—”</p><p>Beomgyu’s hands fly up to cover Soobin’s mouth faster than his mind has the ability to command it, “Enough! Do not bring that up, you ass!”</p><p>The lower half of Soobin’s face is covered, but the mirth in his eyes alone is enough to convey how much he’s laughing. “Fear is a powerful motivator, okay. People make unwise decisions in the spur of the moment,” says Beomgyu, pulling away and breaking their eye contact just to stare pointedly at the ceiling. He’d rather die than admit to last night’s events. “And plus, we had lots of wine. I was—drunk. And heartbroken. It’s not a very good combination, so it’s not my fault!”</p><p>He hears Soobin snicker from beside him; he doesn’t need to turn to know that the older’s staring at him with the same smug look. Beomgyu’s suffered enough humiliation, and he’s only been awake for five minutes. “Why are you so defensive? I wasn’t going to give you hell for it.”</p><p>“Sure you won’t,” deadpans the younger, turning to face him with a scoff. Soobin just shrugs, laying back on his back, “And you? Drunk on half a bottle of wine? Can’t you at least come up with a more believable lie?”</p><p>It has less to do with the wine than Beomgyu would like to admit. “Well, it’s more of the latter.” He half-lies through his teeth, lashes fluttering. The morning weather is too good for them to waste it on such a stressful conversation. </p><p>Beomgyu’s about to get up, suggest a breakfast menu and hop into the shower when Soobin speaks up. “To be frank with you, I don’t at all mind.”</p><p>He feels his entire body freeze underneath the sheets. “About what transpired last night, I mean.” Soobin takes his silence as a cue to continue, while Beomgyu’s just too mortified of the reminder to respond at all. “If it means it’ll help you feel better, and sleep better. I don’t see why you have to be so embarrassed about it. We’re literally married, surely things like this are naturally a part of the agreement, no?”</p><p>He doesn’t respond; just chooses to stare at Soobin, dumbfounded. Beomgyu can’t say that Soobin is wrong, because he knows deep down that he isn’t. </p><p>But, he also doesn’t know what blurring another established boundary could mean for the both of them. “Hyung, what do you mean?”</p><p>“What I mean is,” sighs Soobin, craning his neck to stare at Beomgyu with a pensive look. “At the end of the day, we’re both bound to the contract you proposed. Might as well exploit it for your own gain whenever it’s convenient, right? Isn’t that what people like us do best?”</p><p>“You make us sound like such heartless, opportunistic sharks,” chuckles Beomgyu, shaking his head mildly. “So basically, you’re saying I can get comfortable with you as a rebound.”</p><p>“As long as it stops you from moping like a heartbroken high school teenager,” responds Soobin, nose scrunched in distaste, not very entertained by being labelled a rebound. “Besides, think about it. Not to sound extremely heartless but you definitely don’t have it in control alone; and given current circumstances, your choices are either me, our mothers, or the house staff.” Soobin lays it down like it’s some form of math problem, and Beomgyu’s almost embarrassed at how mundane he makes it sound. </p><p>“You can’t talk to our mothers because they aren’t supposed to know in the first place. You also wouldn’t want to be caught making out with some security guard while your husband’s under the same roof, would you? On our <em>honeymoon</em>?” Soobin’s face inches closer to his with every word, until Beomgyu has to scoff and push him away by the nose.</p><p>“Do not ever say that word to me again,” he grunts, head sinking into the pillow when he throws it back, “but I hate that you’re making sense.” He adds, a tad later, earning a look from the male next to him. Beomgyu doesn’t return his gaze. He doesn’t want to see the look of victory on Soobin’s face. “Being around someone else really does help me take my mind off him.”</p><p>“I’m always right, you know that.” His entitled response comes almost immediately. Beomgyu really can’t avoid his cockiness “And if that’s so, keep at it. If I were you, I definitely would capitalise on any form of opportunity I have. Whatever gets the job done.”</p><p>“Man, you make it sound so horrible and cutthroat.” Beomgyu can’t help but chuckle at how Soobin describes love like it’s some form of psychological cognitive theory. “But yeah, I guess you’re right. Whatever helps, helps. I’m suddenly thankful for not being in Korea right now.”</p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t notice the look Soobin gives him. “Glad to be helpful, as I always am. Anyway, enough dawdling. We have a scheduled meeting with your father at nine, go shower.”</p><p>“You go first,” hums Beomgyu, still shuffling in the sheets. “I’m too comfortable.”</p><p>This earns him the most shocked look from Soobin as he sits up next to him. “What’s this? You never let me shower first.”</p><p>Beomgyu looks at him with a small twitch of his lips, “well, I just happen to wake up with a bit more tolerance for you today.” Soobin only gives him the most ridiculous wide-eyed stare before he gets moving.</p><p>As he watches his retreating figure disappear behind the bathroom door, Beomgyu’s left to his own devices in a bed too big for his frame, but too small for the questions lodging his heart. Suddenly, he’s uncertain of what exactly it’s aching for. </p><p>And so, he decides to make better use of his time then lay swallowed by the sheets and his train of thoughts. Beomgyu heaves a sigh, pushing himself up, pulling the draped silk robe on a chair around his frame, before pushing the balcony door open. </p><p>The outside world is still damp from last night’s storm. The balcony table and chairs still have droplets of rain clung onto them. The polished, intricate cement railings are still coated with a sheen of water. The rain leaves its trails on everything it touched, like a stain that can only be washed away with time. Beomgyu wonders if that’s what he needs; time.</p><p>The front courtyard it overlooks seems greener than Beomgyu’s ever remembered it. The hedges are lusher, bushes of roses standing a bit perkier. The air smells like fresh morning dew, carrying just the right amount of coolness in its breeze, singsonging as it passes by Beomgyu’s ears. </p><p>He catches a glimpse of two familiar figures sitting by the fountain in the courtyard, chatting over cups of warm tea brought about by some maids. Of course their mothers are early birds. Growing up, he remembers seeing his own mum in the garden than he has in their home. The image brings about a comforting sense of nostalgia that soothes him. </p><p>Beomgyu sighs in contentment, leaning his front against the railing despite the dampness clinging onto his sleepwear. A thunderstorm night may be the worst, but the smell of rain he gets to wake up to makes the hassle worthwhile. </p><p>He stands, a hand propped under his chin, blowing a raspberry and watching the air cloud into a little fog in front of him. It makes sense for mornings to be colder on an island, since they’re so close to the sea. </p><p>Yet he welcomes the chill, standing in two mere layers of blue silk while his mothers are sporting wool sweaters and turtlenecks. Perhaps the coolness can help him clear his mind. It’s worked before when he was by the waves. </p><p>Then, like a flash warning, Soobin’s words from last night unceremoniously echo in his mind. </p><p>
  <em>If you hold it in, it’s going to stay with you forever. Best to let it out of your system while you still can.</em>
</p><p>Now in solidarity, the male closes his eyes, leans his cheek against his knuckles, and lets the morning breeze carry his worries away. He revisits the memory he’s kept locked behind closed gates in his mind, allowing himself to once again enter the shackles of its torments. </p><p>Beomgyu lets out a breath he’s been holding, images of Taehyun’s disappointed eyes floating back into his mind. He hates that once again, Soobin is right. He’d never expect love advice from such an emotionally constipated person to be so effective. Maybe Soobin really does know a thing or two, he’ll give it to him. </p><p>Then, like a series of film reels, sequences of their video call begin to replay in his head. It starts with Taehyun’s confrontation; then the look of hurt in his eyes that makes shame flare underneath Beomgyu’s skin like lit up firecrackers. Afterwards, it’s the affliction in his tone, sounding ever so crushed even as Beomgyu refuses to reason, arguing back out of spite. </p><p>Even when he himself is in the wrong, Taehyun still reassures him; says that he never doubted or distrusted him. How foolish of Beomgyu to never see what he had until he destroyed it with his own hands. His ungrateful, selfish hands. </p><p>He chokes back a sob forming in his throat, the burden of shame and guilt flooding him as he attempts to view everything in the past six months from Taehyun’s point of view. </p><p>
  <em>Do you know what it’s like to attend your own boyfriend’s wedding?</em>
</p><p>He remembers the day he came up to Taehyun with his plan. He remembers the look of surprise in Taehyun’s eyes as he sits in silence, at first looking at him like he’s successfully lost his mind. </p><p>He also remembers the fond smile his expression morphs into the longer Beomgyu tries to reason with him, until the prince nods gently. Once. Twice. A hand on his nape, stroking his skin. <em>Of course, hyung. Anything you want. As long as it’s best for us, I trust your decision.</em></p><p>In hindsight, he remembers Taehyun agreeing to his plan even without hearing of all the details. He remembers the relief he felt when Taehyun doesn’t put up much of an objection as he expected him to, kissing away all the concerns from the lines of his face and <em>as long as we still get to be together, I’d take anything. </em>He remembers the trust and faith Taehyun—<em>his</em> Taehyun—has always put in him, never doubting him no matter the ridicule of the situation. </p><p>That, Beomgyu realises now, is love. It is how Taehyun loves him. </p><p>But how did <em>he</em> love Taehyun? </p><p>He pauses as he tries to recall more of that day; of what it felt like from Taehyun’s point of view, how bizarre it would be to have your boyfriend of over two years come up to you and suddenly say he’s getting married to someone else for the sake of <em>their</em> relationship. How none of it probably made no sense. </p><p>He must have looked so desperate. Beomgyu agonises when he remembers the eagerness in his tone as he borderline begs for Taehyun’s approval; the zeal in his eyes when he thought he just came up with the most genius plan in the whole world. </p><p>Then, he remembers how none of it, except for Beomgyu himself, matters to Taehyun. </p><p>Then, he remembers how he probably didn’t even give him much of a choice. How could Taehyun, with his tender heart and his tender smile, ever have the guts to shoot him down when he looked so overjoyed—even at the cost of his own emotional well-being? </p><p>Then, he remembers how this path they chose—or what Beomgyu chose for them, rather—has been set for infallible doom for Taehyun from the start. </p><p>And it took Beomgyu this long to realise that. Of course Taehyun’s entitled to feel everything he felt, because if places were switched and Beomgyu had to be in his shoes, he would’ve reacted in a way less appropriate fashion. </p><p>Beomgyu sighs and rubs a distressed hand through a face. He doesn’t deserve to be moping like this when what he put Taehyun through is much worse. </p><p>
  <em>What do you love more? The prince, or the vice president title? </em>
</p><p>Soobin’s voice once again rings through his head, an echo of a conversation they had. He remembers saying, with so much clarity and confidence it pains him to recall;<em> of course it’s him. I’m not a bastard.</em></p><p>Then came the hurricane. <em>And what have you done so far to contradict that?</em></p><p>All this time, he thought he was smart. Only now does he realise that he’s a fool.</p><p>Beomgyu was too engrossed in lamenting that he misses the sound of muffled footsteps joining him on the balcony. Warmth scoots in on him in the form of a broad chest nudging against his back. “Why are you out here? It’s chilly. You didn’t even close the balcony door, so now the entire room feels like a freezer.”</p><p>What’s with Soobin and always finding him when he’s about to go into an episode of meltdown?</p><p>Beomgyu reaches up to wipe at his tears at the speed of light; just in case a few actually dropped while he was trapped in his thoughts. He couldn’t risk sparing any evidence. “Sorry, I forgot. Go to breakfast without me, I’ll catch up later.”</p><p>Soobin answers with a drooping head digging into Beomgyu’s personal space. Abruptly, a pair of wandering eyes fill his vision. “Foul. I’m not going to go alone and shoulder worried questions from both our mothers again.”</p><p>Beomgyu pulls back slightly, only to have the back of his head crash into Soobin’s shoulder. Since when did this man get so comfortable with skinship? Now they’re at the stage of leisurely back hugging? “Don’t be stupid, they’re in the garden.” He nudges his face in the general direction of the courtyard, and watches as Soobin’s eyes follow. </p><p>Surprisingly, they’re met with a pair of grinning faces and two waving arms in the distance. Beomgyu feels Soobin’s hand drop to his waist, holding him close as the other responds with a wave of his own. Beomgyu hesitantly copies. </p><p>“Seems like they’ve spotted us,” says the male next to him, dipping his chin onto his shoulder like it’s second nature. The gesture is so convincing that even Beomgyu almost believes he’s done it a million times. “Even more reasons for us to catch breakfast without them, so we don’t have to pretend.”</p><p>The older releases his hold on Beomgyu’s waist, just about ready to pull away when a surprising palm encases his, keeping it there. Beomgyu doesn’t say a word when he pulls Soobin’s arm around himself again and leans further into his chest. </p><p>“Stay. I like the smell of morning dew after the rain.” He breathes, refusing to meet Soobin’s bewildered eyes. Soobin is almost under the impression that Beomgyu’s avoiding it out of embarrassment. “Besides, you’re warm.”</p><p>The older says nothing in response, regarding the younger male’s side profile with more questions he cares to verbalise. He’s suddenly struck by the realisation of how aesthetic the male’s face is from this angle; long, dainty eyelashes, round, doe-like eyes, a perfectly sloped nose bridge, and perfectly sized lips that were just on his the night before. </p><p>Something odd thrums in Soobin’s rib cage. Since when did he ever take the time to admire Beomgyu’s appearance?</p><p>He doesn’t object to Beomgyu’s request, only humming in response before wrapping both arms around his waist, holding him closer. </p><p>All of a sudden the morning breeze doesn’t feel so cold anymore, and the urgency of having to prepare for their online meeting feels like it’s hours away. </p><p>“Well, aren’t you comfortable?” Soobin speaks up after a while of prolonged silence. Beomgyu looks so serene, standing there basking in the morning air like he’s ready to fall asleep again in his arms. He looks… delicate. “I thought you’re not a morning person.”</p><p>“You told me to make myself comfortable barely an hour ago,” Beomgyu is quick on his tongue, already deadpanning. Now that he’s opened his mouth, his delicate image shatters like fragile glass. Soobin takes it back. “And I don’t hate mornings, I just hate waking up early.”</p><p>“Certainly not comfortable enough to make me endure standing this close and inhaling your morning breath?” Soobin shoots back, earning an aggravated look from the head resting on his shoulder.</p><p>As Beomgyu turns to retort, he notices the difference in colour on a certain spot on Soobin’s skin; a bloom of red and burgundy, small yet big enough to draw attention, sitting snugly at the underside of his jaw. “Oh, look. You have a hickey.”</p><p>Soobin looks down at him, unimpressed. His eyes are daunting as they lower to Beomgyu’s neck as well. “And so do you. Now we match.”</p><p>He says it so casually that Beomgyu almost falls off the balcony. Events of last night’s occurrence flashes through his mind like a whirlwind. Soobin on the other hand, says nothing and watches the gears turn in Beomgyu’s head. </p><p>The latter instinctively reaches up to the other side of his neck; the side that is supposed to be bare, looking up at Soobin for affirmation. </p><p>The older’s eyes glint as he gives him a single nod. </p><p>“Fuck you!” Beomgyu’s about to throw hands in the air just as Soobin leans back, catches his fists like he’s seen it coming. It frustrates Beomgyu even more. “Not a chance. And go wash up, you stink.”</p><p>“I do <em>not </em>stink! And I don’t have a morning breath, quit it.” The younger purposely leans in with each spoken word until they’re nose to nose, the fury knitting his brows making Soobin burst into a chuckle. “Stop speaking, I’m going to pass out.”</p><p>“You bastard,” says Beomgyu through gritted teeth, reaching up just to grab the taller by the collar. </p><p>Now that he’s turned to face him, Beomgyu gets to notice what a freshly showered Soobin has to offer. His hair is still damp from the shower; clumps strands falling messily around his face, yet doing nothing to reduce his handsomeness meter. His skin even glistens a bit more than usual, lips looking a tad pinker and perkier like they’re taunting him. Beomgyu’s suddenly reminded of how it’s as soft as it looks. How infuriating. </p><p>He’s now in a knitted sweater the colour of vanilla, comfortable and warm to the touch. It doesn’t help that it makes Soobin look tenfold less poise like how he usually is—and tenfold more cuddly. It makes it hard for Beomgyu to stay mad. “My breath stinks, huh? How about I gas poison you to death?”</p><p>He yanks Soobin down with a mean force, parting his lips wide with the intention to exhale directly in his face. If his breath <em>does </em>stink, you bet he’s still going to make use of Soobin capitalising on his embarrassment. He is not falling alone.</p><p>Except, he is, when he miscalculates the magnitude of his pull and the distance of their faces (or lack thereof), because instead of simply breathing in his face to torment him, Beomgyu torments himself; their lips crashing in an unexpected, open-mouthed kiss. </p><p>Now, if it wasn’t humiliating before, it certainly is now. </p><p>This is far from their first time kissing, but Beomgyu feels every part of his body go still. He feels heat rush to both tips of his ears almost instantaneously, eyes bulging wide at the collision. </p><p>Fuck. Now Soobin is going to think he did all that talk just to kiss him. </p><p>Beomgyu’s prepared for the arrays of teasing when he makes a move to pull back, the harsh grip on the collar of Soobin’s sweater letting up in record time. </p><p>What he <em>isn’t </em>prepared for is Soobin tightening his hold around his waist, trapping him between his embrace and the balcony railing—making his stance quite clear with the way he scoffs into the kiss. </p><p>Beomgyu can vaguely make out the feeling of lips smiling against his as Soobin pulls him back in, embarrassment flaring from his ears all the way to his face and down his neck. The kiss isn’t anything grand; if anything, it’s sloppy and lousy, all clashing tongues and teeth, more of Soobin exploiting and Beomgyu allowing him.</p><p>When Soobin’s successfully had his way and pulls back, Beomgy is as red as a beet.</p><p>“Are you blushing?” The teasing comes almost instantly, accompanied by a quirk of eyebrows and a dimpled smirk. Beomgyu can’t even meet his eyes, bashfully turning away in the cramped space to look at anything but Soobin. He feels heat going all the way down to his chest, not even wanting to envision how awful he looks right now. He suddenly finds the balcony table very interesting. </p><p>“You are blushing,” concludes the man in front of him, nose tracing the high and low of his cheekbones, all up in his bubble. His lips ghost along his cheek, gazing just against the corner of his mouth. Beomgyu subconsciously holds his breath. </p><p>After an extended heartbeat, Soobin retreats completely, tracing his steps back inside; leaving a flushed and dumbfounded Beomgyu all to his own device—but not before muttering one word that makes his knees stutter. “Cute.”</p><p>(When they both left the balcony, going back into their bedroom, neither of them noticed the two pairs of trailing eyes that followed their bodies. </p><p>“I’ve never seen Soobin smile so much,” says Soobin’s mother, sipping the last of her tea before handing the cup to a maid stood to her side. </p><p>“Neither have I seen Beomgyu so whiny to anyone that isn’t me,” chuckles the other woman, slightly shaking her head. “Complaining is his love language, you know. He always tries so hard to put up this responsible front to everyone else,” Beomgyu’s mother pauses briefly, eyes shifting back to the now empty balcony. “It’s good that he finally finds someone he can fall back to.”) </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After taking Soobin up on his offer, days go by easier than Beomgyu imagined it to be. </p><p>Each day that begins with him mustering up the courage to call Taehyun ends with falling asleep to Soobin stroking his sides. It repeats until it remains a blur in Beomgyu’s memory; not knowing where his head ends nor where his heart begins. </p><p>Days bleed into weeks, and weeks into months—each one beginning with the anticipation of who will crack first between himself and Taehyun. What was a pure, affectionate relationship resulted in an unintentional game of chess; Taehyun, keeping to Beomgyu’s words of not calling him, and Beomgyu; too busy trying to use anything at all to distract himself from the matter at hand to remember. </p><p>It stays like that until Beomgyu gets too comfortable with the lack of Taehyun. What used to feel like a stinging burn beneath his skin now feels like a pleasant hum of a warm bath; the absence of Taehyun that used to make him ache now becomes a fact he’s made peace with. </p><p>And each empty gap in his heart that was left by Taehyun, Soobin does an impeccable job filling up. Even temporarily, at the expense of the older’s willingness to help, Beomgyu finds himself indulging even in things that aren’t supposed to be auspicious. </p><p>Between online meetings, reading reports and writing hundreds of emails back and forth, they’re down to the final sample of the wine before the factory fixes things up and starts production. Each time his own guilt catches up to him, Beomgyu would crawl to the provisional solution of his problems, burying himself in Soobin’s arms until they fall asleep to the sound of a recorded meeting on repeat. Each day he spends beating himself over what-if’s, ends with drinking the night away and kissing Soobin until he doesn’t remember his own name. </p><p>It isn’t exemplary, but it’s what works. And after a while, Beomgyu discovers that what works is enough. </p><p>Before they know it, three whole months have passed; each day spent inside a vacation mansion that was once perceived as a boundless cage for Beomgyu. Now, with their mothers and a (surprisingly gentle) Soobin to share it with, the mansion feels more like a home to him than the one he has back in Seoul. He doesn’t know how to explain why.</p><p>Between restless days and sleepless nights, there are times when Hueningkai remembers to call him—all filled with wide, worried eyes and <em>are you okay, hyung? </em>along with <em>you’re my best friend and you can always tell me anything, okay? </em></p><p>It starts like that for a while, Beomgyu asking about <em>how’s life without me? </em>with Hueningkai making all sorts of excuses to sound like he didn’t totally miss him and vice versa. Then, the younger would ask him about Corsica; then the work progress, accompanied by <em>tell your mother I said hi! </em>and <em>tell me you’ll be back soon, I can’t stand this anymore, Gyu-hyung. </em></p><p>It takes them a good amount of pep talk to get to the topics they want to talk about; ask the questions that really matter. Hueningkai would always be the one to initiate it, all scrunched nose and pouty lips, going <em>still nothing new between you and Taehyun? </em>followed by a heartbreaking <em>he still calls me every other night just to have someone to talk to, and he makes sure I won’t hear the crack in his voice when he cries, but I always do. </em></p><p>Beomgyu would say nothing, fighting back tears and the tremble in his bottom lip just to say <em>please take care of him for now, Kai-yah, </em>and a cowardly <em>if we have to talk about it, it’s best to do it face to face. </em></p><p>It’s a lie, and they both know it. Hueningkai sees through it each time Beomgyu tries it, alas he’s nice enough to not put him on the spot. They both know Beomgyu just wants to bide time before he’s faced with the inevitable. </p><p>On some days, Hueningkai would attempt to talk him into it, voice soft, pleading; <em>you can’t keep him on edge like this forever, hyung, it’s not fair for him, </em>or with a distressed <em>please, just talk to him, hyung. Anything is fine. He’s not even mad at you anymore, he just misses you. </em></p><p>And each time, it shatters Beomgyu like it always does the first. </p><p>But Beomgyu is stubborn, and Hueningkai out of all people are more than aware of such. Thus, after prolonged silence from much prompting on his side, the younger would just sigh, admitting defeat, wrapping it with a flat <em>as long as Soobin hyung is taking good care of you, </em>and <em>I know I can’t rush you, so, at your own pace, just take care. </em>Then, the face adorned with curly caramel blond hair would fade into a black screen, and the line would disconnect. </p><p>Then he would do his walk of shame from the balcony back into the bedroom, where Soobin would already lay, waiting with either a book in hand or a wine glass—and on days that are rougher than others, both. They’d lie down together, backs half pressed against the headboard—sometimes Beomgyu’s on Soobin’s chest; him reading whatever book Soobin is just to find something he can point out and make fun of. </p><p>It would always result in their comfortable battle of banter and wit, him and the older shooting remarks back and forth until he falls asleep to Soobin droning off—about some Karl Marx manifesto just to have the last word. </p><p>On some days, Beomgyu would let him; and on other days, he wouldn’t be so nice, only letting the conversation cease by arguing his way to shining victory or silenced completely by a kiss. He likes both either way.</p><p>He knows the day will come where he will have to face Taehyun, but as long as it isn’t today; Beomgyu would like to make use of every second left that counts. If he’s been a horrible boyfriend so far, might as well go all the way at the expense of some fleeting inner-peace. </p><p>
  <em>When was the last time it counted for you?</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Until, one day, Beomgyu’s time runs up. </p><p>“I’ve finalised the shipment contract.” He says, entering the music room with two glasses of wine in hand. The other party of the conversation is found sitting at the grand piano in the middle of the room, too busy playing a tune he doesn’t recognise to pay him any attention. </p><p>Beomgyu just saunters over, placing the wine glass designated for Soobin on top of the piano before leisurely leaning over it. He places his own by his lips as he observes the older, silent with wandering eyes that speak loud enough without the aid of his words. Soobin still pays him no mind, head hung low as he focuses on his rapidly moving hands across the row of black and white keys. Beomgyu realises just now how long and slender his fingers are, just a perfect fit to be a pianist. </p><p>Another thing he notices is that Soobin also plays flawlessly—the elegant movements of his hands showcasing years of practised perfection, dancing across the keys with ease, the tune he plays flowing like water during a summer stream. </p><p>Soobin is still in the button-up from the suit he was wearing this morning, only sans the blazer with a simple black tie loosely hung around his collar. The first button is undone, with usually perfect cuffs now rolled up to the elbows. Beomgyu’s lips twist into a sign of mild surprise. Soobin is always the type to be so meticular about how he wears his suits. This is new. </p><p>“Hold on,” Beomgyu interrupts with raised brows as he sets the glass down and stares at Soobin with newfound surprise. “I recognise that.”</p><p>This garners the older’s attention as he briefly stops just to look up and meet his gaze. “That’s a first. No one really does.”</p><p>Beomgyu rushes over to occupy what’s left of the cushioned piano seat, handing Soobin his glass of wine which the older accepts. “Guess I’m no one, because I’ve watched the movie too many times to count. <em>La La Land</em>?”</p><p>There’s a look of genuine awe in Soobin’s face as he wordlessly looks at him for a moment, thoroughly impressed. “Yes. <em>Mia and Sebastian’s theme</em>.” </p><p>“I knew it. It’s the scene where they first met in that restaurant, no?” Exclaims Beomgyu, now peering at Soobin with eyes that are sparkling with interest. The older timidly smiles at how much he resembles an excited puppy. “Keep playing.”</p><p>And so Soobin does. He picks it back up and starts from the top, filling the prior chattery room with a slow, melancholic melody. Beside him, Beomgyu says nothing, sitting quietly and sipping at his wine like he’s enjoying an exclusive, five-star private performance. </p><p>Soobin’s favourite part about the piece is how it transitions from the slow, captivating tune into an heretic, fast-paced orchestral melody. As soon as he does a glissandro and transitions into the dramatic lower keys, he hears a quiet, surprised noise form at the back of Beomgyu’s throat. Every time he plays this part, there’s satisfaction in the change that makes him feel accomplished in an enigmatic way. He especially loves the buildup from the low notes all the way to the higher ones, long fingers pressing down each key with flair and melodrama. </p><p>For a moment, he loses himself to his favourite part of the song; shoulders swaying, body shifting to the rhythm spun by his own hands. He almost forgets there’s another person in the room; until he finishes off with a dramatic slam, and suddenly the male next to him erupts into an enthusiastic applause. </p><p>“If your business ever goes into liquidation, I see that being a pianist would be a perfect alternative,” says Beomgyu, whistling as he does his slow clap. There’s something in the way Beomgyu compliments him with mockery that Soobin doesn’t know if he should be flattered or offended by. “But, really, that was good. I see that you’ve had a lot of practise.”</p><p>The older male does a curt bow, loosening his tie some more. He stretches as he leans up, reaching for the wine glass. As soon as he tastes it, he recognises the aroma. It’s their wine. “It’s my favourite piece. It oddly brings me comfort.”</p><p>“Funny, because there’s a song in this movie that also brings me a lot of comfort.” Says Beomgyu with mirth, placing his glass down and rolling up his sleeves. Unlike Soobin, Beomgyu isn’t much of the suit-lover type; he likes being in it when it’s for work, but he doesn’t like it enough to wear it even when he doesn’t need to. He’s long changed into an oversized, black cardigan and a simple white tee. “May I?”</p><p>Soobin happily makes way, standing up and going over to the side of the piano just so the new performer has adequate room to show off his craftsmanship. “Please, you don’t have to ask.” </p><p>He can’t say he isn’t a little bit excited; he’s never heard Beomgyu play before. He only hears of the male’s musical genius as a young prodigy from Beomgyu’s mother, saying <em>my dear Gyu has always been splendid at playing instruments, it’s like he’s born gifted, </em>and although curious, Soobin never quite found the chance to testify it for himself. </p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t respond, only flashing him a sly smile before setting his fingers on the keys in a prepared stance. Then, he presses down, and the tune begins.</p><p>Soobin would be a fool to not recognise it. The melody starts off slow; on the lower note, peaceful as it progresses, tranquil, almost calming. He watches Beomgyu’s fingers dance across the field of black and white keys with practised familiarity, leisurely, enchanting. It’s <em>City of Stars</em>.</p><p>He makes it look so easy as he transitions from one note to the other, not missing a millisecond of a beat. Pianists can be decent at certain songs, but it takes skills to be amazing even in the simplest of melodies. </p><p>It stays silent between them for a while, both parties taking time to appreciate the music. For a while, it’s just them, two glasses of wine and the sound of piano to fill up the silence. It gives Soobin the same experience of fine dining in a private, book-out restaurant.</p><p>Beomgyu plays the introduction piece with such mesmerising allure that Soobin almost misses the transition into the bridge. It’s like he could play it with his eyes closed. Suddenly, he can understand what Mrs. Choi’s rave was all about. </p><p>It takes Soobin by utter surprise when the younger’s lips suddenly part, and like a dream, the voice he always hears but doesn’t recognise starts singing. He has never heard Beomgyu sing. </p><p>“<em>It’s love,</em>” it’s simple, the way he sings. His voice goes a bit lower, a bit richer. The annoying, taunting edge in his speech now gone, only the melodic hum in his vibrato remaining. “<em>Yes all we’re looking for is love, from someone else,”</em> he doesn’t meet his gaze, eyes downcast, lashes fluttering as he blinks. </p><p>Beomgyu doesn’t need to look up to feel the pair of familiar eyes transfixed on him. (Eyes that he’s found himself softening up to more than he’d like to admit over the past three months. Eyes that become the only pair he’s ever seeked comfort in as of late.)</p><p>He has played for a lot of people growing up. Somewhere along the line, he’s considered giving up the career path carved out ahead of him just to be a musician; a silly dream with a temptation most children always give into. He’s played at talent shows, at esteemed dinner parties, in front of noblemen and elitists. </p><p>But nothing compares to the oddity of nerves he feels right now as he plays for Soobin. He’s only one person, and no stranger at that—so why is he nervous? </p><p>“<em>A rush,” </em>without missing a beat, he hears a voice resound, continuing the lyrics of the song. What are the chances that it’s also a duet part? </p><p>Beomgyu briefly looks up in surprise. Soobin stares at him with a warm gaze. He gives him a small smile behind his wine glass, a dimple carving into his cheek. Beomgyu feels a nerve inside him soothe. “<em>A glance,</em>”</p><p>“<em>A touch,</em>” continues Soobin. Only now does Beomgyu realise how soft his voice is, his lower register no more than a whisper of a breeze. </p><p>(So, he also sings well. Beomgyu’s now grasping at straws for finding something Choi Soobin isn’t good at.)</p><p>“<em>A dance,</em>” he returns, hands still playing the familiar melody on its own accord, as if on auto-pilot. The longer he has to maintain eye contact with Soobin, the more he feels like the notes of the song are escaping his body. At this rate, it won’t be long before he makes a fool of himself. So he looks away.</p><p>But like a rehearsed performance, they sing the next lines in unison; the harmony of their voices surprising them both when Soobin choses to sing the lower register while Beomgyu opts for the higher. Suddenly, he feels like Emma Stone herself filming this scene of the movie. </p><p>“<em>A look in somebody’s eyes, to light up the skies, to open the world and send it reeling,</em>” his hands continue to play from muscle memory, yet his heart is nowhere near paying attention; eyes smiling, a single butterfly taking flight in his stomach each time he catches Soobin looking.</p><p>“<em>I don’t care if I know, just where I will go, cause all that I need is this crazy feeling,</em>” there’s a hint of amusement behind the older’s eyes, like the words they’re singing means more than they let on. </p><p>“<em>A rat-tat-tat on my heart,</em>” they erupt into a synchronous chuckle, feeling silly at the line. </p><p>He remembers the scene of the movie when the song took place—a mirrored reflection of what’s taking place right now, one sitting at the piano with the other leaned over it, singing their worries away between laughters and warm heartbeats; convinced they had the world in the palm of their hands, disillusioned from the reality they didn’t know were waiting ahead of them. Perhaps that’s what it feels like to be so oblivious and in love. </p><p>The next line, just like Ryan Gosling, Beomgyu sings it alone. “<em>Think I want it to stay.</em>”</p><p>Perhaps that is also what he feels.</p><p>He stops then, earning a soft applause from his sole audience. He stops then, although the song isn’t yet finished. He stops then, eyes blanking out as they stare directly into Soobin’s humoured ones, impressed. He stops then, because for the past nine months of being with the male, this is the first time Beomgyu noticed. </p><p>Soobin looks different.</p><p>Perhaps it’s in the way his form’s the slightest bit more slouched now, comfortable when he’s around him—as opposed to the stout way he used to sit, full of poise and etiquette. Perhaps it’s in the way his face relaxes enough for the smile to reach his eyes, no longer just a strained line with lips pursed linear. Perhaps it’s how every banter they engage in (which is too many to count in one day alone) has been ending with laughter and Soobin fighting to have the last word less and less. </p><p><em>To be so oblivious and in love,</em> his own thought resounds in his head, like an alarm he doesn’t remember setting. </p><p>Perhaps it’s in the way Soobin doesn’t hesitate to discipline him when it comes to work; but would be the first to notice when Beomgyu’s laugh sounds emptier, on days when things remind him more of Taehyun than he’d like them to. Perhaps it’s in the way Soobin’s eyes don’t look as patronising when he looks at him now, more often than not filled with amusement or tenderness Beomgyu tries not to read into. </p><p>Or, perhaps it’s in the way they kiss—what starts as an act becomes so natural it’s slithered its ways into their daily routines. </p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>What starts from mandatory obligations became voluntary initiations, Beomgyu finding it less and less difficult to ask for morning kisses without hiding behind ironic mockery. And on some days, he doesn’t even need to ask; Soobin would take it upon himself to do the asking, all careful and tentative, with the <em>you’re thinking about it again, would you like me to kiss it away? </em>and the <em>don’t lie to me, Gyu-yah, I know that look, come here. </em></p><p>Perhaps it’s how Beomgyu feels like he’s known Soobin more in the past three months, than he has in the previous six. Perhaps it’s how he finds it so easy to confide in a male he once thought of as a stranger with a contract, now opening up to him more than he does to anyone else. </p><p>Or it’s in the way Soobin is… kinder than he remembers; the enigmatic façade that used to be Beomgyu’s perception of him now no more than warm smiles and tender touches, twinkling eyes and delicate hands. Perhaps it’s in the way Beomgyu sees more of Soobin’s true nature with each day that passes, realising he’s not at all how he thought he was. </p><p>As the male in question stands there, barely a foot away from him, half learned over the piano with a swirling wine glass in hand—it’s as if a beaming spotlight has been cast on his figure, the rest of the world dimming into blackness. </p><p>Suddenly, Beomgyu sees him in a new light. </p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>Or perhaps he’s been like this all along, and he was just too oblivious to look.</p><p>Suddenly he understands why he felt more comfort in Soobin’s hands than any of the luxurious comforters he grew up sleeping in. Why each time their lips meet, Soobin pulls away only for Beomgyu to chase him before he can command his body to perform otherwise. Why there’s warmth that lingers under his skin where Soobin has touched him last; humming, content, sated. </p><p>Even right now as Soobin lightly cocks his head to the side, there’s a hint of amusement on the lines of his face, yet the look in his eyes remains gentle. Since when has Soobin looked at him with such gentleness that isn’t feigned or out of empathy? </p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>It’s like an epiphany takes over him, and suddenly the man before him is someone he doesn’t recognise. A person that was once his rival—his competitor, business partner, and the other party of their secretive contract. Someone whose importance to Beomgyu shouldn’t extend past what they’ve agreed on in the papers.</p><p>But now, Soobin smiles at him like he’s someone of significance. He bids him good morning, asks him if he slept well, and brings him coffee in bed when he doesn’t want to wake up. He doesn’t hesitate to engage in debates with Beomgyu, yet nowadays it feels like less of a need to be competitive, and more for the want of learning about one another. He scolds him when he slips up with work, but never not following it up with some form of consoling praise. Soobin never praises anyone.</p><p>Now he looks at him, <em>actually </em>looks without averting his gaze, when before he wouldn’t spare him another glance if it isn’t obligatory. He does him favours without the motive for Beomgyu to return it, no longer forcing him to attend meetings in his stead or subjecting him to some petty tasks just for the sake of winning. </p><p>Lately, it’s been less and less about their petty, unspoken rivalry and more about <em>can’t I be nice without an ulterior motive? I </em>am <em>a nice person, </em>or about <em>you don’t have to do anything in return, no, really.</em> </p><p>Beomgyu wonders if he too has been doing the same. </p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>Beomgyu wonders if he too has been looking at Soobin with less spite than he lets on. Beomgyu wonders when was the last time he <em>had </em>to pretend to smile at Soobin, or lean in for a kiss just to put them both through mutual suffering. </p><p>He wonders when was the last time kissing Soobin felt like a task he had to cross off his dreaded to-do list; wonders when was the last time warmth settled inside his chest and someone who isn’t Soobin was the one who put it there. Wonders why he is thinking of Taehyun less and less, writing it off as himself being too occupied with work and other things. </p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>He wonders why he doesn’t realise that other things could also entail Soobin. He wonders why he doesn’t question how the things Taehyun used to make him feel are now elicited by the person he’s supposed to hate the most. </p><p>“Gyu-yah, why are you looking at me like that?” Soobin speaks up, wine glass in hand now empty as he leans in. It was full just moments before, since when was it empty? </p><p>“Like what?” responds Beomgyu, a tad too stale, slowly blinking his way out of his reverie. Soobin responds with a chuckle, “Like you just had the revelation of your life.”</p><p>
  <em>Like you just had the revelation of your life.</em>
</p><p>Beomgyu wonders why it took him this long to realise Soobin now means more to him than what they’ve initially agreed on. He wonders why he didn’t see it before, when all the signs were right there in front of him—have <em>always</em> been right there in front of him, hidden in plain sight, all this time. </p><p>He wonders why he didn’t realise sooner that he has long broken his side of the agreement. Wonders why it took him three months of being blindsided to finally see it.</p><p>“Perhaps I did,” the chuckle he lets out sounds more nervous than it is humorous. He prays to God Soobin doesn’t see past it. </p><p>“And what did you realise?”</p><p>It lodges at his throat and tugs at his heartstrings once the question has been verbalised, and it takes Beomgyu this long to understand that there’s no running. </p><p>He’s done enough running; at first he believed it to be from Taehyun, “Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought, hyung.”</p><p>But now he understands that it was from himself. </p><p>“Maybe you’re a good person. A good friend.”</p><p>Soobin lets out the loudest laugh Beomgyu’s ever heard escape him, and it startles both of them. “So, after three months, we’re on amicable terms now? Suddenly, you no longer want to kill me in my sleep?” </p><p>“I still can, you know,” he bites back, although he himself knows better than anyone else how much of a lie that is. “But yeah, I’ve lost my motive. I guess you need to find a better rival from now on, since we’re on a truce.”</p><p>The older’s response is too casual to make Beomgyu’s heart race, but it does. “I don’t want to, you’re the only interesting one around.” Soobin taps mindlessly at his glass, giving him an amused look. “You aren’t so bad yourself, you know. I quite like you, Choi Beomgyu.”</p><p>“I do too,” he responds too quickly for it to be natural, so he has to backtrack. He can’t have Soobin know he meant that in earnest. “Maybe, on good days only.”</p><p>“<em>Only </em>on good days? For the past three months I’ve let you take advantage of my presence, you rascal.” Soobin approaches him at his seat, coming behind him to enclose his neck in a headlock. Although it doesn’t hurt, Beomgyu still whines, “You make it sound so horrible when you proposed it yourself! We both know you care about me, so drop it—”</p><p>“Alright then, good luck falling asleep during a thunderstorm without crawling to ask me for a kiss!” Soobin says through gritted teeth with more sarcasm than wrath, watching as Beomgyu struggles in his hold. </p><p>The younger keeps thrashing, petite hands clawing at Soobin’s more muscular ones until they both topple onto the piano keys. They end up in a fit of disconnected laughter, Soobin’s standing frame completely hunched over Beomgyu’s seated one. “You asshole, I thought we agreed not to bring that up! You are so petty!”</p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>In that moment, all that Beomgyu hears are the sounds of his own heartbeat and the blend of their giggles, like chiming bells on a bright Sunday morning. It oddly reminds him of wedding bells at a church. </p><p>Even as Soobin reclaims his seat in front of the piano and he’s lifted onto his lap, Beomgyu still doesn’t stop laughing. He laughs until their chests are pressed flush together, connected torsos shaking in unison, synchronised heartbeats thumping in tune to a song only they could hear. </p><p>
  <em>To be so oblivious and in love.</em>
</p><p>He laughs until the colour of happiness blooms across every part of his face, until it makes jaw sore, overflowing until it spills all over himself and onto Soobin. The older has to hold him steady, press him against the piano keys, and kiss it off his face. Even when their lips connect, Soobin can still hear Beomgyu’s muffled chuckles, drinking the taste of his laughter and the aroma of his smile pressed against his until he’s drunk on it, dazed, intoxicated. </p><p>When he pulls away, Soobin presses his forehead against Beomgyu’s, whose frame is still shaking slightly. “What is it with the wine and us always ending up kissing whenever we drink it?”</p><p>Beomgyu’s laughter finally ceases into a pleasant sigh, “I think the aftertaste from your lips is just right this time. Tell them to finalise the drafts, we’re going with this one.”</p><p>“You and your snarky remarks,” says Soobin, who still leans in to press a chaste kiss to Beomgyu’s smile. “Surely the wine isn’t all there is to blame.”</p><p>“What are you saying? It’s a new, innovative way of tasting wine, tried and tested by yours truly. Don’t you see it’s efficiency?” Beomgyu is quick on his tongue to argue, his smile turning snarky. </p><p>Technically, he didn’t lie—the aftertaste really is good this time, both from his lips and Soobin’s. He can almost be drunk dazed on the taste alone. </p><p>But then, he <em>did</em> lie; because it has nothing to do with the wine. It’s just Soobin.</p><p>Then, the older just smiles at him, a flash of an unreadable look dancing across his eyes just before he leans in to kiss him again. It’s almost like Soobin caught onto his train of thoughts.</p><p>The older hoists him up and settles him on the piano keys, a boisterous thunder of off-key notes resounding from underneath them. But Beomgyu’s too busy tangling his fingers into Soobin’s hair, and Soobin’s too busy slipping his hand under his cardigan to give a damn. </p><p>When they finally remember their need for oxygen, Soobin reaches in to stroke the back of his head. “Your hair grew a lot ever since you got here,” he says, still a tad breathless from the kiss. The silver of saliva connecting their lips break as soon as he speaks. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”</p><p>The addressed male just cocks his head, letting Soobin run his fingers through his hair that now ends shy at the base of his shoulders. “So you agree that I look good? Am I pretty, husband?”</p><p>Soobin scoffs, ruffling his hair. “You always look pretty to me.”</p><p>Choi Beomgyu has made two mistakes in his life. </p><p>One, he made the mistake of taking Kang Taehyun for granted. Two, he made the mistake of falling in love with Choi Soobin. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>well, here goes nothing...................</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/soobivert">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/soobivert">cc</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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